Escape
by thinktink2
Summary: Adalind and Kelly are gone. Portland's about to descend into chaos. What if you decided to give up everything you were if it meant your family's safety? What if you just ran and let someone else deal with it all? Is it possible to outrun your fate and be happy? Spoilers for the last episodes of Season 5 & maybe 6 though the story differs from what we've seen in the show after that.
1. Part One - Chapter One

AN: Hello Grimmsters! A what if that started when I was writing "The Biest Within." Decided to build on it and this is the result. Will be told in roughly seven parts, with each part reflecting the POV of what's going on with Nick and Adalind and what's happening with the Scoobies in Portland. The gang's all here (eventually). Will post a new chapter once a week or so. Does not follow my Nadalind universe from "Coming to Terms." Hope you enjoy regardless.

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The lights of the streets flash across Nick's face, illuminating the Land Cruiser's cabin in short bursts, enough that Adalind can see the tense angle of his jaw. She doesn't know where he's taking them, and she doesn't think Nick knows either. She wants to talk to him, to ask, to apologize, to plead, to fill the weighty silence, to tell him she loves him, that everything she did was because she loves him and her children, but Diana's with them, awake in the backseat of Nick's Land Cruiser, and so she holds her tongue. She's not sure how her profession of love will be received: by either Nick or Diana.

She's not sure what's motivating Nick in this metaphorical and literal run for the border. If it's anger or fear or what. She's not sure if the only reason she's with Nick now as they flee isn't because she's the mother of his son and nothing else, and despite everything, maybe Nick really is intent on ensuring his son never has to know what it's like to grow up without a mother. That given extraordinary circumstances, Nick is extraordinarily skilled at putting aside his own feelings and misgivings about a situation or person and doing what is right, especially if it's his son.

She's living proof of that.

Right now, she's grateful.

She tells herself she's grateful, anyway, that it's enough that Nick has brought her along. And because he knows Adalind won't be without her daughter, Diana's along for the ride too, and Adalind's grateful for that too.

Adalind's not sure if Diana has made the connection yet; that Adalind's wholly in love with the man sitting in the driver's seat, but she's scared of what Diana might do if she realizes that Nick is the reason Adalind will never be with Sean. Remembers with startling clarity what Diana did to Rachel, and she can't imagine what she'd do if something happened to Nick.

If something happened to Nick and her daughter was the cause of it. Adalind has already been the cause of so many things that have happened to him.

Adalind looks at the side of Nick's face again, the line of his jaw and tense profile so familiar. Her mind flashes to what they were only weeks ago: lovers. It seems like a lifetime ago now. She's thought of little else but Nick, and their fledgling relationship, and what her actions might have done to something that was just barely getting off the ground. That she might have broken what little trust existed between them when she took his son away from him.

She desperately wants to know if he understands why she did what she did. If he believes her. That it was to protect him, that she loved him so much and her children so much, that it was the only way she could see that would keep them all safe. She had been outmaneuvered by Bonaparte and Sean. They would use her children against her; they would use Kelly against Nick. They could hurt them. She wants to touch him so badly. Things are so much clearer between them, Nick's feelings for her more apparent, when he's touching her, or kissing her, or making love to her.

She can't stand the silence any longer.

"Where are you taking us?" she ventures. It seems the safest question she can ask, everything else complicated and emotional and loaded, and with Diana with them she doesn't want to risk an emotional conversation. She's afraid the emotion might be misconstrued, or Diana will act rashly, not understanding Nick's anger at Adalind might be justified. They're heading towards the industrial part of town, near where they lived, but if they're going to the loft he's taking a circuitous route. "The loft?"

"I can't take you back to the loft. The loft is compromised."

Yes, she did that. She ruined their sanctuary. She looks away, wondering if her warning was enough. It must have been because he's here, beside her, obviously alive and well, or well enough that it didn't impede his plan to find her and rush to get to them. It's been days though since she had Diana warn him, his Grimm healing…she's not sure what signs of injury would still remain, but given what she's pictured in her head that probably met him, he's seems okay. She looks again at Nick, scrutinizing his appearance, but other than a few bruises and the fatigue in his eyes, he's like any other time she's seen him coming home after a long day at the precinct.

"Then where?" she persists, because this isn't the way to Monroe and Rosalee's either. She's trying to think of a friend of Nick's she knows of where Nick might feel safe enough to take them, to impose upon, but she comes up empty.

"Out of the city," Nick says. He glances in his rearview mirror, checking for a tail Adalind assumes, as his mouth sets in a grim line.

Adalind turns and looks behind her, catching Diana's eye momentarily as her daughter wordlessly watches the dark scenery fly by. She's still in her pajamas and bathrobe, the rush to leave, to escape as quickly as possible, not allowing for anything else but grabbing her shoes, and a couple of changes of clothes stuffed hurriedly in a case. Her desire to stay with Adalind helped to facilitate their departure, but Adalind wonders when she realizes they're not going to go back to Sean any time soon if she'll be so agreeable. Adalind looks at Kelly, sound asleep in his car seat, head resting against the side of the carrier. Blissfully unaware of the turmoil his parents are embroiled in, and Adalind envies his innocence.

"They'll be looking for us."

She turns back to the windshield and stares out into the abyss.

There's no question who Nick is referring to. Sean and all the Wesen that serve him now, hoping for a place among the new hierarchy; they'll all be looking for them. There's no place for them to run to here, so now they have to keep running. Someplace out of Portland, someplace where Sean has no influence, because Sean wants his daughter. She doubts he wants Adalind, but he needs her. There's no other way to control Diana, to maintain the lie he and Black Claw created, of a wife and family, and Adalind's eyes dart to Nick, wondering what he'll say when he sees the ring on her finger. If he'll be capable of helping her keep Diana in check, and scared what that might mean.

He wouldn't hurt her, would he?

Would Diana hurt him?

Adalind's terrified that Diana might do something that will necessitate a firm hand, maybe a Grimm hand. She's terrified that they might not be able to keep her daughter in check. Nick doesn't know what Diana's capable of. What she's already done.

They need to get out of Portland, if nothing else so they can regroup and figure out how they're going to fix this mess.

They clear the city limits and then the county and still Nick doesn't stop.

An hour later they blow past the Oregon state line.

######

"Where are we?" Adalind asks, breaking nearly two hours of silence. Nick glances at her in surprise, clearly pulled away from whatever thoughts were occupying his mind, thoughts he's kept close, and Adalind rubs a hand over her eyes. She had drifted off, the lull of the engine and the endless night, the emotional toll of the last few weeks finally succeeding in pulling her under into sleep.

"Idaho," Nick says softly and Adalind turns to check on her children.

"They both fell asleep shortly after you did," Nick says, glancing at them in the rearview mirror.

"Wait a sec, did you say Idaho?" she echoes, turning back to him. They had been in Washington when she fell asleep, she had thought.

"Yeah," Nick says. "Go back to sleep," he says. "I'm just going to pull over for some gas."

"How long are we going to keep driving?" she asks him. She squints at the clock radio and notes with surprise it's well after two in the morning. Or maybe it's one. She's not sure if Idaho is an hour behind them.

"Until we've put enough distance behind us."

"Do you think there's an APB out on us?"

Nick doesn't say anything. She wonders if Sean has an Amber alert out for her and Diana. If there's a warrant out for Nick. Wu had said he assaulted Sean; was arrested and thrown in jail, and given what little she's been able to glean she doesn't think he was bailed out.

"We'll have to ditch the car," Nick says after a moment, and Adalind looks around at the Land Cruiser, as much a part of Nick as his badge and gun. He had to give up those, too.

"Where are we going?" she asks him, wondering how much of this Nick has figured out and how much he's just winging it.

"Someplace where we can all be safe," Nick says.

"Where's that?" she wonders, though she's pleased she's included in that _we._

"I don't know," Nick sighs, almost to himself.

"Nick, you're exhausted. I'm exhausted. The kids are tired. Let's find someplace we can stop and rest and try and figure this out," she says and Nick frowns in the darkness, his expression illuminated by a sole pair of headlights as a vehicle drives past going the other way. Adalind looks back out onto the road they're on. It's a two-lane highway, winding through tall, knotty pines and hills. It's remote and barren, and Adalind wonders if there's anywhere to stop, much less refuel, but after another thirty minutes she spies a decrepit looking sign promising lodging and gas and ten minutes after that their bed for the night comes into view.

Adalind almost tells Nick to drive on, but the spotty parking lot lights cast just enough light for her to see how exhausted he is. She keeps her mouth shut and watches as he parks over to the side, away from the office - and the highway - and shuts off the vehicle. He hands her the keys a moment later.

"If I'm not out in ten minutes, leave."

She opens her mouth to reply when the slam of his door greets her as an audience. She watches him stroll across the parking lot, his senses tuned into his surroundings, whether the innate nature of a Grimm, or just years spent as a detective she's not sure, but her senses are tuned into their surroundings, so she thinks it might be the former.

"Why are we stopping?" a voice from the back interrupts her study.

"We're going to get a room for the night and rest," Adalind says and Diana's blonde head peers out her side window curiously, and she follows Nick's progress as he makes his way to the office.

Fifty feet away he disappears from view, the angle no good where they're parked, and Adalind feels apprehension set in. She wonders how long he's been in there, if it's been even two minutes, and silently starts counting down the time, but whether she'd actually leave him when she hit the ten-minute mark is debatable, if not laughable at this point.

Fortunately, she doesn't have to wonder long. At eight minutes in (she estimates) Nick comes strolling out, once again carefully observing his surroundings. He takes note of a derelict Nissan parked on the other side of the lodge, closer to the office, and an unassuming Ford pickup truck as he walks back to the car.

For a second she wonders if he was even able to procure a room – clearly her subconscious' wishful thinking – when he flashes a key card at her and opens her passenger side door.

"Got us a room," he says, handing her the card. "33," he adds, and opens the door behind her and reaches in for Kelly.

"Come on Diana," Adalind coaxes, and Diana, with another look at Nick and her brother, opens her door to follow. Kelly makes a muffled noise, still mostly asleep as Nick pulls him from his seat and shifts to hold him against his shoulder. Nick's hand rests for a second against the back of his son's head, eyes briefly closing as he revels in the familiarity of holding his son in his arms once again, and Adalind feels a pang in her heart at the sight.

He had smiled so widely when he had seen Nick and it unhitches something inside her that she had kept Kelly from his father. That she had taken Nick's son away from him, when she knew how much he loved their baby, how devoted he was to their son. She had done to Nick what he had done to her. Instead of feeling a sense of retribution, she feels sick. She bites her lip, wondering if Nick will forgive her. She had forgiven him, she supposes. At least she understood why he did what he did, though she may not agree with it. She can only hope that maybe he can do the same and they can move past it, but what they had together - it was so fragile to begin with, the trust so frail, she's not sure now it can survive under the weight of everything that's happened.

She remembers that feeling, though, of holding the child you thought you had lost forever in your arms that first time (of course it's not like it's that long ago, she reflects), how nothing would ever keep you from them ever again, and wonders at the quandary she and Nick are in. If they can't work out the differences and they can't be apart because being apart means one of them is without their child, then what are they going to do?

They have no choice but to work it out, since neither is willing to be without Kelly. The realization fills Adalind with hope, because maybe Nick realizes it too.

Maybe there's hope for them. She glances at Diana to find her staring expressionlessly at her mother. Adalind summons a smile, trying to blink away tears before Diana or Nick can see them and says instead, "I think our room is this way."

"I'll get the bags," Nick says behind her, and she nods. She doesn't offer to take Kelly, help him free up his hands. She knows, too, of how there's no such thing as holding your child too long when you've been reunited after they were taken away.

And besides, it's not like they have much in the way of belongings with them anyway.

Adalind fumbles with the key card for a moment before the door finally unlocks and she and Diana step into the room for the night. She flips on the light and stifles a sigh as she looks around.

It could be worse, she decides.

Then again, it could be better.

There's a single queen bed in the room, two chairs that have some cigarette burns in the cushions, and table between them that's scarred and chipped. A lumpy, questionable sofa sits against a far wall, in front of an old-style TV, not one of the new flat screens, but the old cathode ray tube type that weigh a thousand pounds. It's cold in the room, the heater positioned underneath the window that looks out into the parking lot, looking so dusty and old Adalind doubt it's been run in the last five years. The bathroom, like the room itself, is old, dated, and seen better years - and clientele for that matter.

"You and the kids can take the bed, I'll take the sofa bed," Nick says, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a flimsy chain that's been bolted and reattached to the door a couple of times judging by the holes beneath it.

He pauses as he brushes beside Adalind, tilting his shoulder down in a silent indication for Adalind to take their son and she does, tucking him close to her body as she and Diana watch Nick fumble with the heater for a few minutes before it finally kicks on with a dramatic rasp. It rattles noisily and smells like something is burning, but it surprisingly works and after a few minutes the smell dissipates a little and the chill starts to abate.

Adalind pulls back the blankets and sheets from the bed, half expecting a startled varmint to dart out in surprise with the action, but nothing happens and she motions for Diana to sit and take off her shoes and robe.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?" Adalind asks her, and Diana shakes her head in the negative. Diana had said nothing – hasn't said much at all – when they had peeked inside there, but Adalind can't help but think she's reconsidering her decision to so blindly follow her mother.

"Here, under the covers," Adalind says trying to ignore the restless activity of Nick about the room. He's checking everything out, the window (singular), door, the bathroom, making sure everything's as secure as possible, where the exit (again, singular) is, and inventorying the paltry cache of weapons they have among them or could makeshift with.

Of course, their best weapons are themselves, two Hexenbiests and one Grimm (and, she supposes, one as yet unrealized hexengrimm).

Diana holds her arms out for Kelly, who's waking up from all the activity, as Adalind helps Diana settle under the covers. He stares at his half-sister, as though trying to make sense of his situation, and Diana smiles benignly at him. Her daughter's eyes also flick to the man behind them, tracking Nick's agitated movements before he disappears into the bathroom.

Adalind reclaims her son, tucking him close against her again, and Kelly shifts restlessly against her, emitting another muffled noise. She pats his back soothingly, contemplating the conundrum of what to do with her infant son. She wonders if Nick can procure a crib from the office, and then further wonders if she would want to set her son down in it, given the state of the room, and the lodge in general. She hadn't grabbed his little bassinet in their haste to leave. She barely was able to snatch his baby bag, and she's suddenly aware of how unprepared they are to be on the run with an infant.

She's out of practice, she thinks wryly, though there's nothing funny about the situation she's in, then and now.

She thinks it will be best to have Kelly sleep between her and Diana, but she worries about Diana rolling over in her sleep and possibly smothering him, but there's really no better alternative, so she lays Kelly next to Diana and just as Adalind's pulling her arms away he begins to cry.

"Shhhh," Adalind murmurs, picking him up again, but it's in vain. Kelly's awake and unhappy, and Adalind searches for the diaper bag she's sure Nick brought in. She finds it on one the chairs and searches through, thankful that she's hyper-prepared and the bag is typically full of any and all contents that might be needed with a baby. Several changes of clothes, pacifiers, teething rings and keys, baby wipes, some food, a couple of toys, bottles, and a pitifully inadequate supply of diapers. She manages to free one from the mass and lays Kelly gently on the table. The surface is cold and his crying intensifies when Adalind unsnaps his garment and removes his diaper and the cold air hits him in earnest.

"Shhh, it's okay, mommy will be really fast, okay?" she says to him quietly, and she hurries to hold up her promise. She's just snapping his sleeper back together when Nick appears from the bathroom.

"Here, I can take him while you get ready for bed," he says and Adalind reluctantly hands him a tired and fitful Kelly. "Did you find the bags?" he says, indicating a black bag that Adalind had stuffed with things for Diana and Kelly, but hardly anything for herself. She thinks she may have grabbed a pair of leggings or jeans, perhaps another sweater (at least she hopes, suppressing a shiver), but little else.

"I didn't bring any pajamas," she says and Nick looks at her for a moment, pulling his eyes from his son as he cradles him in his arms.

"You want one of my shirts?" he asks her and she's taken back to a memory of Nick giving her one of his button ups when they first moved in. The subtle electricity that was igniting between them in close quarters when they had called a detente.

"No, what I'm wearing is fine," she replies, shaking her head. She's adorned in a soft cottony tunic and a cottony pair of skinny jeans, that kind that are more like leggings than denim. "I'll help you pull out the bed," she says instead, not sure if she's ready for his continued scrutiny, and the questions or accusations it might bring. She looks at the couch, and wishes there wasn't so much distance between them.

Things are weird. Awkward. She wants to know where she stands with him, but as she grabs the cushion and turns to toss it off to the side she catches sight of Diana again, she knows it's not the right time to get into their complicated relationship.

It's never the right time for them, she despairs, and now she wonders after everything if it ever will be.

She removes the other cushion, glancing at Nick as he quiets Kelly, brushing a kiss against his son's head. He looks like he still can't quite believe his son is back with him again. She grabs hold of a metal bar within the hide-a-bed and tugs and tugs on the folded up frame but it refuses to budge. Nick hands a calmer Kelly back to her and tries as well, grunting a little with the effort, but after a moment he shakes his head.

"It's fine, I don't need it pulled out anyway," he says, grabbing and tossing the cushions back onto it. "Get some sleep, we may have to leave out early."

It's unsaid that the reason might be because their pursuers have caught up to them. She doesn't know if they're even close, or if Sean and everyone working to find them have any idea where they're at, or if they're even trying to find them at all. Nick had tossed their phones out the window of his SUV before they even left Portland, so if they were trying to track them that way, Adalind thinks they may have a small advantage.

But Nick's right. They have to ditch the SUV. If the plates haven't already been notified to every state, county and federal agency it's only a matter of time. She wonders, too, if her face is plastered on every news outlet in the tri-state area for taking Diana, if Nick's got a bulletin out on him, too, if this whole flight from Portland is just an exercise in futility. She's tempted to turn on the TV just to see what's being said, but she doubts it works and it's not the kind of thing Diana needs to see. It's possible everything that happened is still confined to the Portland area. That Sean maybe didn't expect Nick to just grab his son and her and Diana and run. Perhaps he expected more of a fight from Nick, given the highly contentious nature of their relationship.

Truthfully Adalind's surprised at his behavior, too, but things haven't exactly been normal for a while now.

"Nick, you can't sleep on that thing like that. We can all share the bed," Adalind says quietly. She'd feel better with him close. They can each take a side and her children can lie between them. It will be tight, but it's not like she's going to sleep that well anyway. Too much rattling around in her brain. Too much at stake to rest.

"It'll be fine," Nick insists. "Besides, I think it's best considering the circumstances," he adds and Adalind can't help wondering if there's a double meaning to his words.

%%%%

For a place in the middle of B-fucking-E, it's noisy. There's hardly any traffic noise, not surprising given how few cars they came upon on their way here, and the time of night, but what little there is blasts through the night like a foghorn. She can hear wildlife in the hills behind them. She estimates it's after four in the morning now, but she's not sure. She can hear the rhythmic deep breaths of Diana beside her as she sleeps soundly. The heater continues to come on periodically with a noisy clang and hums obnoxiously in the quiet. The faucet in the bathroom drips, too, and still it doesn't drown out the noise of Nick's restless shifting across the room.

He's wide awake, too, and Adalind wonders when was the last time he's slept.

She feels his eyes on her, she thinks, periodically. It's that instinct, the Hexenbiest aware that a predator has her in his sights. She's lying with her back to him, facing her children, and after a long moment of listening to the relative cacophony in the room she hears Nick shift against the couch again and sigh.

She can't sleep, not with everything boomeranging inside her head, and there's no point in pretending otherwise.

She rolls over to face him and, as her eyes adjust, in the hazy darkness she can just make out he's staring at the ceiling. He looks—well, uncomfortable. The couch, even though Nick's not what she would call excessively tall, is too short for him to stretch out properly on. He's got his (booted, she notes) feet propped up on the arm opposite him. He also looks worried, and yet she takes a moment and catalogues the shape of his nose, sharp and straight, and maybe even a touch aristocratic? Grimms have long had ties with royalty, were esteemed patrons of the royal families. Perhaps one or more of his ancestors was more than just an enforcer to a noble family. His (soft, she remembers) mouth, the defined line of his jaw, the long eyelashes, and the dark, thick hair she can remember running her fingers through as he brought her to ecstasy.

He turns his head suddenly, as though aware he's being watched, and catches her observing him. They stare at each other for a long moment in the darkness, something in Nick's eyes that have her sliding carefully out from under the covers, and going to him. He pulls himself up into an upright position and watches her approach, his hair sticking up where it was pressed against the arm of the couch.

"Nick," she breathes, and it's all there, ready to come out, everything she's been wanting to say since she saw him again.

"It's okay," he says, and she thinks he's just trying to delay the inevitable, and she shakes her head, because it isn't.

"I'm sorry," she says, and her voice cracks. "I'm so sorry, Nick. I never wanted to hurt you. I didn't want to take Kelly away from you."

"I know," he interrupts. "I know why you did what you did," he says, and he doesn't sound angry at all, just resigned and matter of fact. He pulls his legs up and swivels to plant them on the floor, sitting up, and Adalind drops onto the cushion beside him.

"I was so scared of what they might do. Nick they threatened Kelly—they threatened you—"

"Adalind," he interjects with a sigh. "It's okay. I'm not angry. I know that Renard and Black Claw didn't leave you with any options and I know how much you love your children. And I know what it meant for you to have Diana back again."

And he knows they used her to manipulate Adalind into joining their cause. He rubs his face tiredly with both hands and sighs deeply and Adalind falls silent. Despite his assurances he understands, she still feels like there's a chasm between, widening slowly with each passing hour.

"Did you get my note? Did Wu give you my message?" she asks him after a moment. "I tried to call you but Wu answered your phone, he said you'd been arrested," she whispers, and Nick looks away.

"I found your note after you left, yes," Nick says, but he doesn't comment on the other half of her statement and Adalind wonders what that means.

"What happened?"

Nick snorts, and pulls his hands away.

"I was pissed when I found out what Black Claw had done. When I saw you and Kelly on TV with _him."_

 _"_ I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to help them with their plans. I tried everything in my power to protect you, and I refused to cooperate with them," she says quietly. _For as long as I could._

"Is that how you got the bruises?" Nick asks her, pointing to her neck, and Adalind shifts uncomfortably, ducking her head down, as though she can hide her neck. They'd almost faded away. She thought between her hair and clothing she had done an admirable job of hiding them, but Nick had never missed much and he'd clearly taken notice of them.

"Did he do that?" Nick asks, with a note of anger, and Adalind looks at him.

"Sean?" she asks him, hand reflexively going to her neck. Nick's eyes glitter dangerously in the dim light of the room. She shakes her head. "Bonaparte," and his eyes darken and his mouth sets in a thin line. "He wanted me to give him your address and I wouldn't," she says.

Except she did.

"I tried to warn you," she says, feeling emotion choke her again. "I had Diana—"

"I got your message," he cuts her off. "Thank you. It probably saved our lives."

Least she could do, after all, after her actions threatened it. Them. Him. Adalind shakes her head, and feels tears well in her eyes. She tries to blink them away, and succeeds, and she hesitantly presses a palm against Nick's cheek and his eyes lock on hers again.

"I was scared something would happen to you," she confesses.

"I'm a lot harder to kill than Black Claw anticipated," he says, but there's something in the way he says it that makes her wonder at his conceit. She notes he doesn't pull away from her touch and he keeps staring at her with that same expression in his eyes that had her getting out of bed to come to him. She's not exactly sure what it means, but she feels a buzzy warmth in her stomach, and tells herself she's being hopeful. She tries to focus on something else, but she can't bring it in herself to pull her hand away.

"Rosalee and Monroe and the others?"

Nick nods against her palm.

"They hid in the tunnels. Everybody's okay, considering," Nick says, and Adalind wonders what that means. Considering her actions almost killed them all?

"You and Trubel must have had your hands full," she laments.

"She stayed with Eve in the tunnels."

"What? Eve hid out?"

"Eve was injured in the fight when they busted me out of jail, but I think – I think she's going to be okay," he adds, moving away from her touch at last, and of course the subject of Eve kills whatever attraction was buzzing between them. His perfect mouth twists a little, almost as though he's not sure what to think about it, whether or not Eve's okay, whether that's a good or bad thing. His response answers one question and prompts a dozen others.

Likely there is or will be a warrant out for Nick.

"What happened?"

"Bonaparte," Nick replies. "He and Eve fought and he managed to inflict some damage."

Yes, Bonaparte. Of course. He's orchestrated quite a bit of damage among them.

"Yes, but I meant, what happened to you? You didn't fight Black Claw off by yourself," she says, because not that she doesn't care about Eve, she just doesn't care about Eve when there's Nick in front of her, and it's impossible to think however skilled he is as a Grimm, the sheer number of Wesen that were coming after him...

Nick shrugs. "I had help."

"From who?"

He shrugs again, and Adalind narrows her eyes at his evasiveness.

"Would you believe Renard killed Bonaparte, not I?"

"What?" she says, almost forgetting to lower her voice.

"Stabbed a sword right through him just as he was getting ready to finish off me."

"What?" she says again sharply. She looks him over again, but she can't see any signs of a debilitating injury, a near-fatal wound or blow.

"Looked like he was as surprised as I was by what he did," Nick remarks almost casually, and Adalind stares at him wordlessly. "Especially after everything that happened between us."

"What happened?" she asks him. Nick huffs a laugh derisively.

"You left me and I kind of went a little crazy."

 _You left me._ She feels a thrill at his choice of phrasing, and reminds herself again to not get carried away.

"I didn't want to leave you," she insists.

"I know. I know you didn't feel they gave you much choice in the matter. But I saw you on TV with him, holding our son, and I wasn't about to lose someone else I love to _him."_

 _Someone else I love._ Of course he means their son, but she can't help the flip her heart makes at his words, at the possibility, he might just mean her. _You left me._

"Finally just had enough one day and we had it out in his office. We beat the hell out of each other before he threw me out of his office. Actually, he threw me through his office. He ordered my arrest and then threw me in jail, where I was basically a sitting duck for Bonaparte and Black Claw. He came for me offering to trade Kelly if I gave them a book."

Trade Kelly.

No mention of her, though. Was she even thought of when Bonaparte made him the offer. She wondered if he was tempted, knowing that one child had been taken away from her, just a few short years ago, that he had been instrumental in the taking, and yet if it meant getting his son back would he even hesitate to do it again.

She knows the lengths a parent will go to, to be reunited with their child. Even though she should be angry, indignant, defiant, she finds she can't fault him for it if he was.

And all this was for a book?

"A book? All this was for a book? What book?" Adalind says in surprise, forgetting to lower her voice again for a moment. Her eyes dart to her children, still thankfully asleep and she breathes a quiet sigh of relief.

"It's a long story," Nick says tiredly. "And not the most important thing going on right now."

Yes, but she can tell there's more to the story, that he's not saying something, trying to put her off, but she has to concede he's right.

"What's the plan?" she asks him. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know," he breathes out in a sigh. "My only thought was to protect my family. I can't fight a revolution with you and Kelly at stake. I've lost everyone I've ever cared about. My mother, my aunt, Juliette, and then they tried to take away my son. They tried to take away you. I'm done."

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Nick-" she says but she's not really sure where to go with it. What she wants to touch on first. That he possibly considers her part of his family, perhaps even in the same capacity as someone as beloved as his mother and aunt and Juliette were; that losing her was a blow he couldn't take, as equal in measure to losing his son. "So what are we going to do? Are we just going to keep running?" she finally stutters. She can't imagine a life of running, two small children, of always looking over her shoulder. It's not the life she wanted for her children. It's not the life she dreamed of when she started allowing herself to be carried away by her relationship with Nick.

"We need to find someplace off the grid and lie low."

"For how long? Black claw-"

"Black claw is dead. Bonaparte's dead, and right now everything's in disarray. We need to take advantage of the confusion and stay out of Portland. We can start a new life somewhere else."

"What?" she asks stupidly. "You can't be serious," she says.

"I am."

She stares at him as he stares back, finally breaking eye contact and looking around the cramped hotel room.

"Is this how you want to live? Wondering who's going to come for our son next? Your daughter? Because of me? Because of what we are? We just need to get far enough away, someplace remote, and live quietly."

"You honestly think we can just settle down somewhere and raise a family?" she retorts.

"I do," he says and she snorts in disbelief. "I'm not saying it won't be difficult. We'll have to be careful—make some changes—no one can know who we really are."

"You can't just stop being a Grimm," she cuts in.

"Watch me."

%%%%%

TBC


	2. Part One - Chapter Two

AN: Vacation over. Going back to work today, and posting this to cheer us both up. Thank you for all the follows and reviews. They make my day.

%%%%

She stares at him, dumbfounded.

"How do you expect to hide that?" she says after a moment, lowering her voice when Nick's eyes dart over her shoulder in warning. "You're a Grimm. You can't exactly hide that from Wesen."

"Actually, you can," Nick says mildly. "Turns out a pair of sunglasses is all you need."

She glares at him in irritation.

"Nick-"

"Mommy?"

Nick and Adalind jump at the unexpected voice, and look to the bed, where Diana is sleepily sitting up. Nick moves, slightly away, putting some distance between him and Adalind, as Adalind stands, aware of how close, how intimate they seem, and wonders how much Diana heard and understood.

"Yes, sweetheart?" she says distractedly. She's still floored by what Nick is suggesting.

"I'm cold," Diana says and she hears Nick get up.

"I'll turn up the heat," he says. He bends down to fiddle with the heater for a few minutes as Adalind fixes the covers around her daughter's shoulders. "It's up as high as it will go," he says a moment later. "Here, you guys take this," he offers, pulling the blanket he had been covered up with off the floor where it fell when he stood, and laying it across the bed and Diana.

"What about you?" Adalind says, still feeling like she's fumbling for words, trying to find her footing. She looks around them and wonders how much Nick has thought about this, what he's suggesting.

If it's even, remotely, possible.

"I've got my coat. There's an old blanket in the truck. I can grab that. Go back to sleep," he says to them. He disappears out the door and Adalind listens to his footsteps fade as he heads for the car.

"Mommy, I'm still cold."

"You'll warm up in a minute. Here," she says, moving to the other side of the bed and slipping in behind her and wrapping her arms around her daughter, trying to generate some heat. She _is_ cold, and Adalind rubs her hands over Diana's arms, and checks on Kelly. She moves a pillow to the other side of him, futilely trying to box him in, and waits for Nick to return.

It seems like he's gone a long time, but maybe that's just her nerves. She strains her ears and hears a car door slam. A few moments later his footsteps register in the distance and another few moments later he's back in the room, latching everything carefully behind him, and Adalind breathes a sigh of relief. He can handle himself, she's knows this, but the fear of the unknown, what's after them, how many and the relief of being back with him has her on edge. And now his proclamation he wants to give it up. Stop being a Grimm?

He told her he tried to give it up before and couldn't. Isn't Juliette Eve now because he couldn't live another day without being who he was? He's a Grimm. He's always seemed to embrace it, and now suddenly he thinks they can just live as Kehrseites in the world and no one will know or bother them?

He can't hide who he is. And she can't take his powers away anymore, even if she wanted to, and she doesn't.

It's just crazy, the ramblings of a man who's emotionally pushed to the limit.

She understands how important his son is to him. How little family he has left and how he treasures it. He's been wholly devoted to Kelly, loving and protecting him and by extension her from their difficult reality. She knows how much he loves his son, that he feels like everything he's ever loved has been stripped away from him.

She understands the feeling of just wanting to run, leave the chaos and the mess behind and let everyone else figure it out. She understands wanting to just isolate yourself away from everyone and the world, and focus on the here and now, what's important.

How often did she wish the world would go away and let them be? Just pretend it was just her, and Nick, and Kelly in their little bubble and no one else? Especially when he began looking at her a certain way, when she realized the jumble of feelings she had for him might not be so one-sided after all. When he began to return her affection with little moments of his own. An embrace. A kiss.

She stares at him in the darkness but he's either really drifted off to sleep or he's doing a bang up job of ignoring the level-stare he has to feel focused on him after dropping this bomb on her.

Does he honestly just think they can just drive far enough and no one will find them? Live in the woods like some member of a fringe society or something and everyone will just leave them alone?

She feels a curdling in her stomach and has to admit she's not certain if it's fear of what he's suggesting, or the thrill that it's possible it _could_ work.

Maybe.

Possibly.

It's a long shot, she tells herself. A hell of a long shot.

He's right. They couldn't live as they are now. Not as Adalind Schade and Nick Burkhardt. Too many people were likely searching for a Grimm and Hexenbiest with those names. She's lived decades hiding what she is from the unsuspecting world; it's not like she's really grown out of practice. She doesn't want to be what she is now, but she has little choice in the matter. But him?

He can't stop _being_ who he is. He's Nick. He doesn't shirk duty and responsibility. It's one of the things she was counting on when she came to him, pregnant with his son and desperate. He doesn't run from his problems. He faces them head on, and now he's saying he can just turn his back on that, on all his friends, and disappear?

She understands it's not realistic. He can't hide who he is, no matter what he says. Not from Wesen, and if the last few years of him being a Grimm has taught him anything it's that Wesen are everywhere. Sean will have every Wesen he can bribe, control and manipulate looking for Nick, and her, and Diana.

Hence, probably his _find someplace remote_ comment, she reasons sardonically. Not a city, though she longs for the anonymity it would provide.

Someplace devoid of human contact then, or as much as humanly (and wesenly) possible. The countryside; a cabin or house in the woods, limit their interactions with the general populace.

And then what? Just live off the land? Become farmers or tree huggers or something? What is it he expects them to do to make this work? It might be one thing if he was just talking about the two of them, but there are two children to support and care for, too. They hardly have anything with them in the shape of clothes, food, or anything else, really. Cash is probably in limited supply, too, and using a credit card wouldn't be a wise decision since it would provide a paper trail right to them.

They're going to need a source of income. Perhaps his extensive investigative history into robberies can help them navigate the ins and outs of a new career as bank robbers, she thinks sarcastically. They can become the Bonnie and Clyde of this century.

God, why is she even entertaining this idea?

 _Because, maybe, it could work, it could be possible,_ that voice keeps whispering.

Yeah, and maybe Bauerschwein will sprout wings.

If they didn't run, if they didn't try to do what Nick is suggesting, then what's the alternative? Stay and fight. Possibly win. Probably lose. Probably lose a lot before they record a win - to Nick's point, maybe more than they're willing to part with - and Sean's not going to be easy to take down now that he's starting to get footholds in his ascent to power. He's always been a slimy, conniving, manipulative bastard. They'd already lost Meisner. Eve even apparently sustained some damage. What if she lost Nick? He's not invincible. What it they lost Trubel or Rosalee or Monroe or any of the others she's come to think of as the good guys - even, possibly, her friends.

She wonders what they think of her now, and everything she's done. Maybe _friends_ is a bit of a stretch now.

The idea of Wesen controlling the world they live in, not having to hide their identity or live in fear, is a heady proposition, one that many will find intoxicating. What Sean's promoting will attract a lot of enthusiasm. It will take a while before most realize he doesn't give a damn about them, only himself.

The battle for control will be long and bloody, she suspects.

They need to regroup as the dust settles from the blow to Black Claw. Sean's still got the edge, and maybe it would do them some good to step back for a bit and figure out how they're going to take Sean down.

Running is just a temporary solution. She's run long enough and often enough to know that eventually whatever it is you're running from catches up to you. They need to be ready, and maybe what Nick needs is a little bit of time to realize that.

%%%%

She's dead on her feet. Her mind kept going around in circles for the rest of the night and she thinks she hardly closed her eyes before she awakens to Kelly's cries and the sound of a zipper sliding down the track.

"What time is it?" she murmurs groggily, pushing messy hair out of her eyes. She doesn't have a brush. She'd just pull it back but she doesn't think she has one of those either. Maybe Nick or the front office has a rubber band?

"Six-thirty," Nick responds softly, glancing at her. She sits up, reaching for Kelly as she tries to make sense of what Nick's doing, but her mind is still too slow to catch up.

"You want me to take him?" Nick asks, and she shakes her head, and realizes Diana's nowhere in sight.

"Diana?" she asks with alarm, the worry serving to bring her more sharply back to consciousness.

"In the bathroom," Nick says, and Adalind realizes the door to it is shut. She stares down dumbly at her crying son before the fact he needs a diaper change, and breakfast, permeate the fog.

"You okay?" Nick asks her, quirking an eyebrow. She nods mechanically as she scoots off the bed. "You get any sleep?" he asks her.

"Did you?" she retorts, finding the diaper bag after a moment and fishing some supplies out. They're steadily dwindling, and she reasons in another day, two at most, she'll start running out of things for Kelly.

"A little," Nick says, and she nearly snorts. He does look more awake than her and she can't help feeling slightly aggravated about the fact.

She hears a faucet turn on in the bathroom and wonders how long Diana's been up. "How long have you been awake?" she asks him with a little less bite in her tone, tending to Kelly.

"Since about six, I guess," Nick says. "I heard Diana get up."

Adalind looks up at him. "She laid the blanket I gave her back across me," he says, and she notices it folded up and sitting on the end of the couch. She looks again at Nick and suppresses a shudder. She can't help thinking of Rachel suffocated in her own blankets by her daughter, all because Diana didn't want anyone to stand in the way of her ideal of a perfect family: her parents together.

It occurs to her she needs to tell Nick what happened with Rachel, sooner rather than later, but she's not even sure what to say and is scared how Nick might take the news. _Beware of nice gestures with blankets. My daughter might just smother you with it._

He took the news of Adalind's powers coming back better than she expected, she reminds herself. He knows what she is, after all, what her daughter is, but there's something that burns about potentially proving the age-old perceptions right. Those things, written by his ancestors, in his books about her kind.

She wants to show the tenuous faith, if there's still any left after everything, is not misplaced. He's not a typical Grimm, she reminds herself, and she's always prided herself on not just being an average hexenbiest. She can be different, too. Good.

She hopes she can make Diana see it that way, too.

"We're going to have to resupply at some point," she says, waving a diaper around. Or use cloth, and she wrinkles her nose at the thought. She'd been so glad to find disposable diapers among the assorted supplies Kelly had with her when she had rescued her and Diana.

"We'll stop by a convenience store along the way," Nick says. "We need to conserve cash," he adds, and she nods, another question she had answered. She wonders where in the middle of nowhere the nearest convenience store might be, but doesn't voice the thought out loud. She's still not sure about how she feels about what Nick's suggesting and thinks, given the company, it's better to keep her mouth shut until they're alone or she's had more time to think about it. Still, she's not used to being parceled out information and it rankles.

"How much do we have?" she asks him.

"About five grand," he replies and she raises her eyebrows. It's more than she expected, and it gives her another insight into Nick's getaway plan: he at least put some thought into some aspects of it, because how did he amass that amount of cash together? "I don't suppose you have anything on you?"

"What you see is what you get," she says curtly. "I forgot to grab my bag containing my slush fund in our rush to get out."

She had been so surprised when she opened the door and found Nick on the other side of it, barking orders for her to grab her children and whatever things she needed for them and to hurry. She hadn't wasted any time with questions.

Maybe she should have.

"It's fine. We can pawn that hideous rock on your finger," he replies with a touch of derision and Adalind's head snaps up in surprise. Of course, he noticed. He flashes cool eyes at her, emotion carefully hidden except for the muscle ticking in his jaw.

"Nick," she begins hesitantly. "I don't think we can."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it meant that much to you. A gift from your beau, the mayor?" he snipes. She's taken slightly aback by the note of anger in his voice, and the realization his attitude is influenced by jealousy.

"No, of course not. I mean, I – it's hexed," she says. Nick drops the bag he's still messing with and step closer and grabs her hand.

"What do you mean?" he asks, looking at her intently before turning his attention back to the ring. He turns the ring this way and that on her finger, and then her hand as he examines it, and starts to twist it off to examine it closer.

"Don't!" she yelps, snatching it back. "Bonaparte put it on me. He said not to take it off."

"Bonaparte's dead," Nick points out, but he frowns at the object.

"Yeah, but I don't think whatever magic he used on it is," Adalind tells him.

"What happens if you take it off?" Nick asks her warily.

"I'm not sure, but I think something will happen to Kelly, or Diana," Adalind says. "He warned me not to take it off or something would happen to my children."

"Of course he did," Nick says with a sigh. "Do we know for sure?"

"Do you want me to risk it?" she asks him incredulously.

"How do we know if it's still cursed? If it doesn't work anymore, do you want to continue wearing it?" No she doesn't. She hates the damned thing. It feels unreasonably heavy, but she's aware that there are some spells that don't die just because the person who cast it did. Still, the look on Nick's face as he stares at it...She shakes her head slowly. She carefully hands Nick his son, fussing for his morning meal, and hesitantly grabs hold of the ring with her other hand. After a moment of gathering her courage she gently pulls on the ring and is half surprised how easily it slides off her finger. After Bonaparte put it on it seems like it shrunk down, and she wouldn't be surprised if it had. It reaches the tip and Kelly begins screaming his head off. The sharp sound startles her and Nick, and she accidentally drops the ring on the floor.

"Oh my god," she frets, searching frantically for it. On the other side of the bathroom she can hear Diana cry out and the sound of the mirror breaking. Kelly's screams intensify and his face turns an alarming shade of over-ripened tomato as Nick desperately tries to soothe him as he looks him over, trying to determine what's happening to him, before she finds the ring on the floor under the table. It doesn't want to go over her knuckle and she scrapes a layer of skin off her finger as she shoves it forcefully over the joint and slips it back on.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, Kelly. Diana!" she frets, tears leaking out of her eyes.

"I'll check on her," Nick says hurriedly, handing her back their son with a worried frown. "I can't see anything wrong with him," Nick says worriedly, his face a mess of visible emotions. Adalind trails after him, nearly running him down in her effort to get her to the bathroom, near hysterical. Kelly's still screaming as though he's on fire and his face is purpling with the effort. She's horrified by the thought that whatever Bonaparte did, maybe he _feels_ like he's on fire.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she sobs, holding Kelly close to her, as she gently rocks him side to side, and she spins her attention to the bathroom doorway now open and spies Nick tending to her daughter, where she's sprawled out onto the gritty, cold tile.

"Is she alive?" she asks him tearfully. He's quiet as he assesses the damage and Adalind holds her breath, silently cursing Bonaparte, Black Claw and Nick's detective-fueled curiosity, and her need to appease him to the point where she ignores her own good sense.

"Yeah, she's coming to," he says a minute later, sounding profoundly relieved, and Diana slowly pushes herself into a sitting position. The intensity of Kelly's screams is lessening, too, but she's thankful nobody's in the rooms around him. What happened a few moments ago sounded no less than someone dismembering a live person.

Then again, maybe it happens a lot at this place and nobody pays it any attention.

"Kelly?" Nick asks breathlessly, looking at his son, deep regret in his eyes.

"I think he's okay," she sniffles, smoothing a hand over his head, fingers gliding over his light brown hair. She can't see any obvious signs of injury, either, but that worries her. Just because he looks okay doesn't mean he is and she has no idea what the spell Bonaparte put on that ring is designed to do to her children.

"Jesus, what the hell was that?" Nick gasps, looking back at Diana.

"I don't what it is. I told you, it's cursed!" she accuses, forgetting to modulate her tone with Diana so close, and Nick nods slowly. She's so angry right now. At Bonaparte. At Nick. At herself.

"No kidding. You okay, sweetheart?" he asks Diana, helping her more of an upright position. A trickle of blood leaks down her nose and over her lip.

"Nick," Adalind says in a voice only an octave below outright hysteria. Nick grabs a towel from the rack and presses it against Diana's face, crouching down beside her.

"Here lean your head back," he says to her softly, "like this," he adds, demonstrating by gently tilting her head back. "Keep this there until it stops bleeding."

"My head hurts," Diana mumbles groggily, but she obeys. Nick stays beside her and looks back at Adalind, cradling their son, as Kelly continues to wail, but at a volume that would only arouse polite curiosity, or annoyed looks, not calls to the police.

"Kelly?" he asks again worriedly, glancing back at Diana when she shifts, also trying to get a better look at Adalind and her brother. "Here, keep your head back," he directs.

"It's stopped," Diana replies, pulling the bloody rag away, but she's right. Nick examines her closely, and Adalind hurries the few steps closer to verify herself, pushing Nick aside and he moves out of the way, stepping back, but Diana appears to be already recovering from whatever happened.

"I—I think he's okay," Adalind sniffles, turning her attention back to her son, lightly bouncing him in her arms. "Shhh," she soothes. "Mama didn't mean to do it," she tells him softly, catching sight of the chagrin on Nick's face. He swallows thickly, and looks back at Diana, before getting to his feet and helping Diana to do the same. He guides her to take a seat on the toilet lid, and moves aside to focus his attention on Adalind. He reaches for her hand and examines the ring again, this time with far more deference than before.

"What the hell kind of spell did Bonaparte put on this thing?" he asks, glancing at her. She's still pissed, but her anger can't decide on which target to land on, and in its indecision fear is creeping in. She has no idea and she wonders if she's condemned to wear this hideous thing for the rest of her life if she can't figure it out. Nick has his detective face on as he studies it carefully. "There's no inscription or any other marking on it I can see."

"I don't know," she says with a measured breath, "but it's more than just your run of the mill hex."

"I don't think Bonaparte was your run of the mill Zauberbiest."

No, he wasn't.

"Nick, I'm not sure I know of a zaubertrank that could break it," Adalind confesses worriedly. Nick stares at the ring.

"I might know of something that might break it," Nick murmurs, but before she can pursue this curious remark Diana breaks in.

"Bonaparte was a full blown Zauberbiest," she reminds him. "He has powers that outweigh mine."

Nick looks at her.

"Are you talking about Mr. Bonaparte?"

"Oh, never mind, honey. How do you feel?" Adalind asks.

"I didn't like him," Diana tells her, ignoring the question. Adalind freezes, something in the comment exciting her anxiety again, as she tries not to openly react.

"He was mean to you. He hurt you, and but now he'll never hurt you again."

Nick transfers his attention from the ring to Diana and Adalind behind him, who has a matter of fact look on her face that sets Adalind's heart racing.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"He won't hurt you anymore."

Nick raises his eyebrow at the certainty in her voice and glances at Adalind, probably wondering at her daughter's confidence, but there must be something in her expression that has him taking a second, closer look at Diana, because his gaze sharpens and Adalind's feels her heart plummet.

"Diana—Diana, did you do something? Like with Rachel?" Adalind asks, as Kelly fusses and Adalind tucks him closer, glancing down at him absently, noting his angry color has faded, leaving only slight pink cheeks. His chubby hand fists in Adalind's shirt.

"Rachel? Who's Rachel?" Nick interjects, eyes darting between Adalind and Diana, though Adalind's sure he's aware of Sean's campaign manager.

"The lady who worked with daddy," Diana says to him darkly. "I didn't like her."

"Sean's campaign manager," Adalind clarifies reluctantly when his eyes flick to her for elaboration.

"What happened to Rachel?" Nick asks guardedly, sliding his eyes carefully back to Diana, as though she's something he shouldn't dare take his attention away from, but Adalind shakes her head distractedly. She already knows what happened to Rachel, but how would Diana know if something had happened to Bonaparte?

Had she heard them last night. Had to be.

Unless she caused it.

But Nick said Sean had killed Bonaparte. Maybe she heard Nick and Adalind discussing it last night, but the assurance falls dead at her feet, and she knows somehow it has to do with the former, not the latter.

"I didn't like her so I made her go away," Diana tells him matter-of-factly and Nick shifts subtly, turning slightly, giving her daughter his full attention.

The Grimm recognizing a possible threat, Adalind thinks, and she feels tears spring to her eyes again, not wanting him to see them that way, see her daughter that way. She remembers the way he's looked at her since he offered Kelly and her the opportunity to live with him in the loft: tenderly, with awe and love, and affectionate amusement at times, and wishes he would never see her – and her daughter any other way.

"Nick-" Adalind breaks in, trying to delay the conclusion he's coming to.

"I did the same with Mr. Bonaparte," she says.

"How?" Nick asks, brow slowly furrowing deep.

"Nick!" Adalind says desperately, because she knows, somehow, now, that Diana manipulated Sean into doing what he did. She remembers how Diana used her dolls to control her and Sean, try to force them to be together.

"I used the sword in Daddy's hand."

Nick stares at her, mouth slowly closing, whatever questions or concerns he had slowly dying.

" _You_ stabbed him," Nick says after a moment, and Diana nods. "By using Re-Sean—your dad," he fumbles, "to wield the sword for you when he was in the loft with me."

Diana nods again. "He won't hurt you anymore, either," she says to him and Nick can't stop staring at her and the carefully blank look on his face makes Adalind want to scream.

"I guess I have you to thank for saving me," Nick says after what Adalind thinks is an uncomfortably long silence as he processes everything she's said. Diana beams at him.

"Mommy likes you. She said she would be sad if anything happened to you. Your mommy took care of me," she reminds him, tossing another informational volley that catches Nick off guard.

Nick nods after a moment. "She did. She loved you very much."

"I liked her," Diana says quietly. "She was nice."

"Me too," Nick says roughly.

"Mommy says you're nice, too. That I will like you," she adds, and Nick summons a strained smile.

"Good, because it looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together," he says. "We need to get on the road," he says to Adalind, as though Diana didn't just drop a ten-ton bomb on them all.

%%%%

TBC


	3. Part One - Chapter Three

There's a pall in the car as they drive, Diana sometimes making conversation, asking questions, most of which Adalind hastens to answer, trying to pretend everything's okay, but a few times Nick beats her to it. His answers are vague and perfunctory, but polite, and usually discourage further inquiry for a while. Adalind keeps glancing at him beside her. He's got that look she recognizes as his brooding face, and she wonders what his thoughts are, if he's thinking of where he might be able to dump them off on the side of the road and squeal away in a screech of tires and burning rubber with his son.

Diana killed Bonaparte. She killed Rachel.

She's not sure how high the body count is, if there are others before Adalind was reunited with Diana. What if they encounter someone along the way that does something that upsets her daughter? They can't leave a trail of bodies in their wake because someone does something Diana doesn't like. Sean will certainly be looking for a series of unexplained deaths.

Diana's body may be that of a prepubescent, but her emotions are still that of a very young child, with no understanding of the seriousness and consequences of what she's doing.

 _I like you._ She's grateful that Diana clearly doesn't find Nick threatening, but again, she's not sure how much Diana understands the relationship between her mother and Nick. Her opinion might change if she realizes Nick stands between her mother and Sean being together. But perhaps it's the inroad she needs to explain to Diana why her mother and father will never be together.

After all, Adalind likes Nick, too. Adalind loves Nick. They have a child of their own together, they were a family before Adalind found her daughter again. They can still be a family with Diana, too.

She just has to make sure both Diana and Nick can see that.

If Nick even wants to, but he must, she tells herself, because they're all still together on this journey to the middle of nowhere, as she looks out at pine tree after pine tree stacked along a steep hillside. Kelly's been fussy most of the ride, too, still affected by whatever happened earlier, and his irritability is transferring to the adults in the vehicle. Nick's brooding and Adalind's starting to feel twitchy.

They wind up one side of the mountain and then back down before Adalind's had enough. She huffs a sigh loudly.

Enough of the stilted silence. Enough of being confined in Nick's truck. Enough of the boring and barren timber-lined landscape. They reach the valley after another curvy road down the hillside, and Adalind spies a combination fuel-diner-general store among a cluster of buildings that apparently qualify as a town. She wouldn't be surprised if it was also the courthouse, post office, and library either given the surroundings.

"Stop the car," she intones. Nick swivels his head around to her in surprise.

"What? Why? We need to-"

"Nick, stop the car. _Now._ "

Nick frowns but complies, pulling off to the side of the road, almost directly in front of the establishment.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't sit in this vehicle another minute. I'm starving, all I've had is half of a protein bar and a cracker, I've stared at one pine tree too many, and I'm fairly certain my butt is starting to fuse with the seat. Diana," she says snappishly, turning to her daughter. "Grab your coat, we're going to get something to eat and resupply." She grabs the door handle and opens the car door before Nick can object, and Diana follows. A second later Adalind opens the back door and grabs her son's carrier, fixing a blanket over him to block out the chill, just in case Nick has the idea of taking off with him, but he's just staring at them, before rolling his eyes and shaking his head resignedly.

He pulls off the shoulder as Diana, Adalind, and Kelly cross the highway and into the second of two fuel stalls at the place Adalind indicated and watches them walk past.

"I'll join you guys inside in a minute," he says, and Adalind nods, before realizing she doesn't have any cash on her. It's frigid, the wind brisk and brutal as it cuts across her face and Adalind hunches down in her coat and hurries Diana along, aware neither of them have anything in the way of gloves, hat, or scarves, and figures she'll hit Nick up for money inside.

"It's cold," Diana says, wrapping her arms around her middle, and Adalind nods in agreement. It was cold, too, the last time she was on the run with her daughter.

"We'll get something warm to eat," she tells her, and the thought of real food, not crackers, or the protein bars (supposed to be for the high powered attorney on those days when she was in her element and tied up at the office) they'd all consumed in the car earlier for breakfast (except for Kelly, who had milk fresh from the tap, and was also the only one of them who had a warm meal), makes her mouth water.

There's a bell over the door as Adalind and her children push their way in as quickly as possible.

"Hello," someone calls, and Adalind turns her head to track the voice, shaking messy hair out of her eyes.

"Hello," she calls back, spying the owner of the sound, a short, heavy set woman with dark hair and dark eyes that remind her of Rosalee. She feels a pang at the thought of her friend, and wonders if she has any idea where they are or what Nick plans to do. She wishes she could call her, but she doesn't know her number without her phone, and her phone is lying on the side of the road in Portland, along with Nick's.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, we stopped in to get something to eat," Adalind says, and smiles benignly. "Is there a menu?"

The woman indicates a billboard above the cash register. On it is what is apparently the menu, a dozen items at most, including the drinks, which makes sense, Adalind thinks resignedly. The store is cramped. On one side a trio of windows, looking out into the lot where Nick is fueling and keeping an eye on them, she notes. Along one of the windows, a freezer, advertising ice cream sandwiches and drumsticks. The other two windows are beside two booths, occupying what constitutes as the restaurant portion of the business. To the left of Adalind is the general store, four aisles and two walls of grocery picks. The register occupies the center, and behind it the kitchen and office, and to the right of that, in front of the booths are the bathrooms, denoted by a placard over the doors in the silhouette of a doe and a buck. Adalind refrains from rolling her eyes.

"Okay, well, we can put our order in and then shop while we wait, I guess."

"Sure," the woman agrees, and pulls out a ticket to write it down. "Your husband going to pay for everything when he finishes getting gas?"

Adalind freezes. _Husband_. Yes, Nick, of course. She wonders if the woman noticed the ring, or just naturally assumes two adults with children are a married couple.

"Yeah, he should be in shortly," Adalind manages, and puts in their order, Nick's too, because with only a dozen items to choose from, chances are she's not going to get it wrong, plus after months of living together she knows what he likes and dislikes. She warms slightly, thinking of the last time they were intimate. She definitely knows some of what he likes.

"What are we looking for?" Diana interrupts bringing her back down to earth, looking around at the shelves.

"Let's see what they have. Grab one of those baskets there," Adalind indicates, focusing on the task at hand. She points to a short stack of shopping baskets and Diana grabs one and hands it to her. She adjusts her hold on Kelly's carrier and starts down the aisles, Diana following as Adalind awkwardly tries to juggle Kelly in his carrier and the basket.

A stroller. She should've packed a stroller, but she didn't think of it in her rush to gather up what few belongings she could hold and leave out with Nick before Sean discovered what had happened.

"Here, why don't you hold the basket and I'll pick out the groceries," Adalind says with a smile, giving Diana the items. They go down each aisle, slowly and carefully, Adalind trying to make sure she doesn't miss anything they need. The food is expensive, more than she'd pay at Fred Meyer, but their options are limited here in no-man's land, and there are some things they need if they're going to continue, so she tries to focus only on the bare essentials.

There's some baby food for Kelly, and it's surprisingly not out of date, so she grabs as many jars as she can, a pack of diapers, too, and after a moment's hesitation she grabs another pack and tucks one under her arm, and gives the other to Diana.

"You can set some of that on the counter," the lady hollers, obviously watching them, and Adalind smiles and maneuvers clumsily over and sets the two packs down next to the register.

"Thanks."

"You can leave him here, too, if you want. I don't bite, and I don't mind keeping an eye on him," the woman says with a kindly smile, indicating Kelly. Adalind's saved from trying to make an excuse when the bell over the door chimes loudly again and Nick enters, bringing a blast of arctic air with him before the door shuts.

"Brrr," he says, shivering, flashing a handsome smile at the woman.

"Ah, here," Adalind says, handing him Kelly and his carrier. "I ordered food. I'm just going to restock on some things we need."

"Just the essentials," Nick says quietly, reminding her they need to conserve cash.

"I know."

He takes his son, makes a few polite remarks with the woman as he offers to go ahead and pay for the gas and their meal, and a newspaper from a short pile near the register. He finds a seat in one of the booths, facing them and the door, and sets Kelly on the seat beside him, and then alternately watches them and tends to Kelly as he flips through the news.

Adalind almost wonders if they're on the front page, but if they were she's sure the woman would have said something, or reacted with surprise. Instead, twenty minutes later the proprietress is carrying their food out to Nick, and Adalind is finishing up her painstaking perusal of the aisles and making final decisions. Despite how little she feels she's chosen, the basket is full and heavy, and it takes Adalind grabbing onto one end, and Diana the other, to lug it around and carry it back to register. They do so awkwardly in the narrow aisles, Diana walking backwards, laughing and giggling as they try to avoid crashing into things, and the sound is music to Adalind's ears.

This, this is what they should have. Normalcy. A mom and a daughter out for a bout of shopping. Not trapped in a mansion, carrying on a lie for the masses.

"Just a few more steps, we can do it," Adalind encourages cheerfully, and Diana flashes her a smile, as Nick notices their struggle and folds up his paper. He gets to his feet to help.

"We got it," Adalind says, and together she and Diana reach the counter and set it on the floor in front of it with a thud.

"You can leave it there until you're done," the woman says with a smile, as she sets their lunch down on the table, smiling at Kelly as she leans over him. Adalind returns it, watching her closely, but she senses only admiration, not a threat from the woman, and she's still feeling absurdly light-hearted in light of the circumstances. Nick bends down and grabs the basket to set it on the counter.

"He's adorable." the woman asks and Nick glances up and smiles in polite thanks, but Adalind can tell he's uncomfortable with the scrutiny they're receiving.

"Come on, you ladies have earned your meal," Nick says.

"Good, because I'm famished," Adalind says, and Diana nods in agreement.

"So I've heard," Nick replies. "Along with a half dozen other things."

"Sorry. When my butt has gone numb from being glued to the upholstery for nearly half the day, I get cranky. Wash your hands," she admonishes Diana just as she's about to grab a fry. Diana frowns in disappointment but complies.

Adalind watches carefully, as Diana disappears into the bathroom, all of eight feet away from them, a single stall, practically a closet with a toilet and sink, but she still feels like if she takes her eyes off her daughter she might never see her again.

"She'll be fine," Nick says, noticing her concern. "There's no windows out the back and only a door that leads out from the kitchen."

"You surveyed the building?" Adalind asks him, and Nick shrugs, but she can't argue that it wasn't smart or that the knowledge doesn't make her feel better. "The lady appears to be the only one here, besides us."

Adalind nods and stuffs a fat, crinkled French fry in her mouth and chews slowly.

"So, what's the plan?" She asks him and he glances up at her for a second, eyes lingering on her face before surveying the room. It's instinct, whether honed by years as a cop and detective or the years he's spent as a Grimm. He looks down, satisfied that the room is empty. The woman who prepared their food is making noises in the kitchen right now, and only Kelly provides any other sound besides the adults, as he fusses, impatient for his own meal. "Do you even have one?" she asks testily, "or are we going to drive around until my butt morphs into part of seat."

"I don't know what you're complaining about; your butt looks great," Nick says, taking a huge bite of his sandwich as Adalind is stuffing another crinkled French fry into her mouth and she stops short, sure she's hearing things.

Did he just admit to checking out her ass? Before she can pursue the comment, Diana rejoins them, skipping across the tile and taking a seat next to her mother, and Adalind's forced to drop both subjects for the time being.

She doesn't think it's a good idea to look like they're not a united front, afraid that any objections or questions could be seen as discord by Diana. Threats. Reasons to hurt or distrust Nick, and though she wants to know what he's thinking, she also wants her daughter to understand that Nick is one of the good guys, someone she can trust.

She hopes.

They still haven't talked about the realization that Diana has contributed to the body count in Portland, and though he hasn't said anything, Adalind knows he has to be thinking about it, somewhere in the swirl of thoughts he has in his mind right now.

At least, they're in the mix of what Adalind's thinking, sandwiched firmly between wondering what he's doing and where they're going and where they stand with one another – does he still feel the same way as he did before she left him, taking his son with her. She desperately wants to believe his claim that he understands why she did what she did. His comment about her ass gives her hope; she can't imagine why he'd make it unless he still found her desirable.

Diana glances between them, obviously noticing something amiss, or maybe just the sudden silence between them when she appeared. Nick notices her look, and offers a smile, but Adalind can see the strain in it. Whatever it is they're doing is already taking a toll.

"Mmm, tastes good," Adalind says, trying to direct her daughter's attention away from the stilted behavior of the adults, pretend that what they're doing here now isn't because of dire circumstances. Diana looks down at her plate of food and after a moment digs in hungrily.

Kelly fusses noisily in the seat beside Nick, and Nick glances at him in concern. He's hungry, yes, but Adalind still feels like something isn't right after that episode with the ring, but she can't tell that anything's physically wrong with her son. Both she and Nick looked him over carefully, Diana, too, but all they could go on was what Diana could tell them about what happened to her. She had felt immense pressure in her skull, then relief, when Adalind replaced the ring, and Adalind and Nick can only hope that she hasn't done any permanent damage to their son.

Neither was overly buoyed by Diana's seemingly over-confident and dismissive "he's okay."

"He's hungry," Nick says, glancing at Adalind and she nods, replacing the sandwich she had all of two bites of back on her plate.

"Did you bring his baby bag in?" Adalind asks him, holding out her arms for their son. Nick places his own sandwich on his plate with a shake of his head.

"I'll get it," he says.

"Too bad Kelly can't have a fry," Diana says.

"He's too little," Adalind agrees. "Kelly gets the joy of strained carrots for his lunch, I think."

"Yuck," Diana says, and Nick wrinkles his nose in agreement.

"Be right back," Nick says, and disappears out the door, the chime of the bell heralding his departure, along with a cold blast of air that sweeps through the building. Adalind shivers and wraps the blanket more tightly around Kelly, but he wriggles his arms and legs. Adalind bounces him gently as Kelly gets more agitated.

"Shhh, daddy will be right back," she soothes, "and we'll get you something to eat, too."

She watches Nick through the window as he rifles through his truck, reminded that they still need to offload it somewhere. Nick switched out the plates back at the motel, but it's likely only bought them hours, maybe days. She's not optimistic that they can continue with it much farther.

Diana watches Nick, too, as his head pops up into view, over the open rear door, baby bag in his hand and he shuts the back door. He glances around, satisfied there's no danger, and makes his way back inside, bringing another blast of cold air with him. The proprietress pops into view, making sure it's not a new customer.

"Are you all doing okay?" she asks them.

"Fine, thank you," Adalind says as Nick hands her the bag. Diana's hands dart out excitedly to hold her brother, and after a moment Adalind places Kelly in her arms as Nick retakes his seat.

He hides the stiffening of his body well, but after months of sleeping beside him, being intimate with him, she can see he's unsure whether he wants her daughter's hands on his son and that hurts.

"Remember, you got to hold him like this," Adalind says, demonstrating and Diana nods, following her hands. Kelly stares up at his sister for a moment while Adalind digs into the diaper bag, pulling out a jar of baby food.

"Can I feed him," Diana asks and Adalind glances up at Nick, who's back to consuming his food, expression blank.

"He's precious. How old is he?" Adalind starts, remembering the woman, not realizing she is so close to them. She's come around the counter and is looking at their son, and Nick's eyes flicker to hers, as he shifts slightly in his seat, a slightly defensive position that Adalind recognizes from years of tension between them, particularly when he perceives a potential threat to his loved ones.

She ought to know. She's threatened his loved ones enough, but she reminds herself firmly that it was a long time ago and the only thing she's interested in is helping Nick protect his loved ones, and hopes he counts her daughter and her among them.

"He's…seven months," Adalind says with a smile. To not answer the question would draw suspicion, and she needs to make sure that the woman doesn't think there's anything remarkable about them. They're just a normal family out for a drive, stopping to eat.

"He's adorable," the lady comments and Adalind smiles, affecting a proud smile, wishing she would go away. She doesn't like the scrutiny, and she can tell Nick doesn't either. The longer she interacts with them the more details she can recall about them later. "Looks just like his father," the woman adds, smiling at Nick, and Nick glances up at the woman and then at his son, before nodding, realizing he needs to play along, too.

"So I've heard," Nick says agreeably. It's no secret Nick's son shares a strong resemblance to him. Adorable, though, is not one word Adalind would have normally associated with the Grimm, but she supposes under different circumstances it could be true. And it's certainly true that their little hexengrimm, or whatever he might be, is adorably cute.

The Grimm is incredibly attractive, too, and she could have done worse, making a baby with him. Handsome in an unassuming way, and she catches Nick's eye and quickly looks down, back at the jar of baby food she's trying to get open.

Nick reaches across and takes it from her, opening it easily, before handing it back wordlessly, fingers brushing against hers.

"You like being a big sister," the lady asks Diana and Nick and Adalind look at her, holding a squirming Kelly in her arms and Diana pulls her eyes away from Kelly to grin. She nods enthusiastically, and Nick seems to relax a little, smiling slightly at Diana, though Adalind's not sure if it's not just for show. Still, if she likes having a brother perhaps she's less likely to do something that might hurt Kelly, and she can't help but understand Nick's relief at the idea.

"Can I feed him?" Diana asks again and the lady chuckles and raps her knuckles on the table.

"You need anything, let me know. I've got your groceries ready to go when you are," she says and Nick nods and Adalind smiles again.

"Thank you," she says and Nick watches her as she disappears behind the counter again.

"Yes," Adalind says, "you can feed him," and Diana grins again. "You need to sit him up a little more," she instructs.

"Like this?" Adalind nods, reaching into the baby bag for a bib and placing it on Kelly, who begins to fuss loudly. A pacifier floats out of the bag and into Kelly's mouth, and Nick and Adalind freeze for a moment, Nick's eyes darting over Adalind's shoulder to where the woman disappeared to behind her.

"Diana," Adalind says, glancing at Nick, wondering if they're okay, of the woman saw, Nick shakes his head minutely, and Adalind doesn't know what that means, if she did, or didn't. Diana glances at her mother, frowning.

"What? That's what you do when he cries sometimes," she says.

"Yes," Adalind agrees quietly, "but remember what we talked about, that you can't do certain things in like you do at home."

 _Like suffocate people in their bedsheets,_ she thinks unbidden.

"No powers," Adalind reminds her and Diana nods after a moment.

Kelly spits the pacifier out, and starts wriggling in earnest, the precursor to the fit he's going to throw if he doesn't get fed _right now_.

"Here, take the spoon," Adalind instructs, glancing at Nick again, but his shoulders have relaxed some and Adalind deduces that the woman didn't see anything. Diana takes the baby spoon Adalind had dug out and dips it into the jar of baby food. She holds it in front of Kelly's mouth and Kelly calms momentarily, sensing someone's about to get with the program.

She's able to feed him a few mouthfuls before Kelly decides he's had enough that he can afford to be picky. He turns his head obstinately and Diana pauses with the next spoonful.

"Now you've got to get creative," Adalind advises with a smile. "Nick's pretty good at getting him to finish the whole thing," she says, smiling at Nick and Diana glances up at him as Nick meets her eye before looking at his son as Kelly twists his head and begins to fuss again. Diana tries to follow him with the spoon but he just gets more agitated.

"Here," Adalind says, holding out her arms and Diana reluctantly hands her brother back to her mother and watches as Adalind curls an arm around him protectively and takes the spoon. She spends a few minutes convincing Kelly to open his mouth, mostly through trickery and tickling, but manages to get most of the jar of food in him before Kelly absolutely refuses anymore and Adalind sighs and gives up.

"He'll be good for a while," Nick says and she nods. "Better get him cleaned up and I'll pay for the groceries and load them into the car."

"Okay," she says, as Nick places his paper napkin on the table and reaches over to tickle his son affectionately. Kelly stares at him, and Adalind wonders if their son realizes it was through Nick's encouragement that whatever happened with the ring happened, but then Kelly allows a small smile to surface and Adalind figures father and son are okay.

"Come on, Kelly, let's get you cleaned up. Diana," she says and Diana looks away from Nick to her. "Come on, let's wash up. It might be a while before we stop again," she adds, looking at Nick, but he offers nothing in the way of explanation and Adalind stifles a sigh and grabs the baby bag and heads for the bathroom across from them, Diana in tow.

She can hear Nick and the woman making small talk through the thin walls as she focuses on Kelly. There's no changing table, or anything else for someone with an infant, and she keeps a firm hold on her son as she balances him precariously on the edge of the sink and attempts to clean his face and hands.

"Are we going to see daddy soon?" Diana asks her, and Adalind pauses, trying not to show the expression on her face.

"It's going to be a while, I think," she says slowly, not wanting to lie, but she doesn't think it would serve to mislead her completely. She has no idea when they'll encounter Sean again, but she hopes it's not for a long, long time, if ever.

"Why?"

Yes, why?

"Daddy's going to be busy," she says. "He's got a lot to deal with it," what with taking over Portland in a sham election, she thinks. "He can focus on what he needs to do and we can focus on what we need to do." Figure out how to stop Sean, ideally. Figure out how to raise two children while wanted and on the run, more likely.

"Does daddy know where we are?"

"He knows we're gone," Adalind hedges, and she would think by this time, going on nearly twenty-four hours since Sean last saw Adalind and his daughter, that yes, he knows they're gone. She wonders how he's taking it. If he has any idea where they are or what they might be planning. If his reaction was the same as Nick's when he found out Adalind and his son were gone.

 _You left me._

 _I went a little crazy._

Somehow, she doubts the anger Sean might be feeling is the same as Nick's.

"Will we ever get to go home?" Diana asks.

"Maybe. One day," Adalind says quietly, thinking of what Nick's response would be, because she thinks if he has his way, the simple answer is no. And there's a large part of her that embraces that, because she wants her children safe, she wants a quiet life to live out with Nick and her son and her daughter and she really wants to just forget anything else exists outside of them, and there's the other part of her that knows how difficult that's going to be to achieve.

"We're going to get away for a while, and spend some time with Nick and Kelly. You like Nick, don't you?" Adalind asks carefully, and Diana nods agreeably.

"Good," Adalind says, relieved. "Kelly misses his dad, and I think it would be good for all of us to spend time together and get to know one another."

Be away from Sean's and Black Claw's influence.

"How come you love Nick but not daddy," Diana asks.

"Because – I – he – we – he's Kelly's father," she stutters, aware her argument is woefully inadequate. Sean is Diana's father, after all, so why doesn't she love Sean?

"Nick's a good guy," Adalind says. "He's a _really_ good guy. He's smart, and brave, and fair, and compassionate, and he's _such_ a good father to Kelly. He takes good care of us, and he would do anything in the world to protect those he loves," she says, voice cracking at the end. "Your father and I had a chance to—to be together, and the more we are, the more it just shows it doesn't work. _We_ don't work. But Nick and I—surprisingly, we _do_ work." She tucks Kelly carefully against her side, and kneels, grabbing Diana's arm. "Diana, I am thankful that your father — he gave me you, but I love Nick very much. I really want to things to work with him, for us to be happy, and to do that, I need to be with Nick, not your father."

"Does Nick make you happy?" Diana asks softly.

"Yes, sweetheart, Nick makes me very happy. I would be devastated if something were to happen to him," she says pointedly, but it's subtle, and she wonders if Diana gets the message. "Do you understand?"

Diana nods. "Good."

"Come on, Nick will be waiting for us, wondering if we fell in."

The decision's been made now. She's committing to Nick's insane idea of running. Lying low, as he calls it. Falling back and figuring out their next move against Sean, she tells herself. _Finally getting the fuck away from the world and just focusing on us and what's important with nobody to distract us._ _Free to be in love, raise our son, and Diana, and be a family together._

She's experienced that kind of freedom before, while on the lam. It's a different kind of prison where the walls keep shrinking tighter and tighter around you the longer it goes on.

"Can I call daddy and talk to him?" Diana asks as they make their way to the car.

"No, Diana, you can't contact your dad," Adalind says, stopping, aware that Nick is watching them curiously, impatiently from the driver's seat. The wind whips around them, billowing Adalind's hair around her face, and she shakes it away distractedly, and checks on the blanket over Kelly's carrier.

"Not by phone, not by any other means," she warns. "No one can know where we are."

"Are we in trouble?" Diana asks as she stands next to the car. Nick's gotten out to secure Kelly in his car seat, and Adalind helps buckle her daughter in. Nick glances up from what he's doing to look across the bench at Adalind. Adalind meets his glance for a moment and looks away. "No one can know," she repeats quietly. "There are some bad people surrounding your dad."

"Like Mr. Bonaparte?" Diana asks, as Nick checks her belt and verifies it's secure.

"Yes, like Mr. Bonaparte. It's risky if someone finds out where we are," she adds glancing at Nick. "They could hurt one of us. You can't contact your dad for by phone, or any other means," she adds meaningfully. Diana nods. "I mean it. Promise me," Adalind says. "I know you miss your dad, but it's important that no one knows where we are."

"It's safer for everybody, including your dad," Nick says, and Adalind raises an eyebrow. She doubts if Nick gives a damn about Sean's safety, and really, Adalind couldn't give a shit either, after everything he's done and the way he manipulated her, risking her relationship with Nick. "If your dad doesn't know where we are then he can't be used to find out."

"Okay," Diana says simply.

"Okay?" Adalind echoes, surprised at the easy compliance. Surprised and unsettled.

"I want to stay with you, mommy."

"You're not going anywhere," Adalind promises and Nick shuts the door and retakes his place in the driver's seat, anxious to be get back on the road.


	4. Part One - Chapter Four

An: Thank you for all the reviews and follows. They make my day and let me know whether you're enjoying this or not.

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They're alone for a few minutes. They're two hours down the road, but given the winding, twisting two lane, she doesn't think they put away much in the way of distance. The drive is making her crazy, patches of remote, isolated hills, pockmarked by civilization, and every time they come into a group of buildings she tenses, wondering if this will be the place they get caught. Pulled over by some backwoods, diligent deputy that has studied their BOLO and can hardly believe his good fortune in making the bust that will undoubtedly make his career.

They've had to stop to tend to Kelly, and Diana's using the facilities again in a remote, sparse, way-station after Nick's recommendation, leaving Adalind to believe he has an idea of where they're going, and that it will be a while before they'll stop again.

"Are you ever going to share with me where the hell we're going?" She asks him sharply, watching the restroom Diana went in. Nick's in the driver's seat beside her, perusing the paper he picked up earlier, after tending to his own needs.

"We're going to head further into the mountains on 93 and come out on the Montana side."

"Do you have any idea where we are?" she asks him, since he seemed to her to be driving fairly aimlessly.

"Yeah, we're still in Idaho." Well that's specific, she thinks. She has no idea where.

"I'm surprised you're not booking it to New York, or Mexico or Canada or something. Why Montana?"

"He'll be expecting us to try to get as far away as possible if he can't find us in the city. Once he rules Portland out he'll start searching the borders, if he's not already. His influence is still largely confined to Portland for the time being, so he'll think that we tried to get far away. That will buy us some time. He'll be looking at places where he thinks we might have friends, former cities we've been affiliated with."

Adalind's lived most of her life in Portland, but she attended law school in San Francisco, and worked at a firm in Seattle, but there's no one there in either place that she would trust to give refuge to a Grimm, her hexenbiest self, and her two children. Nick's lived a largely nomadic life, and if Sean's going to look at his past for likely places to hide, then he's going to be searching a while. Portland's been his longest stop, besides the twelve years he spent growing up in New York. Likely Sean would start there. He'd be well aware that Adalind's friends would be few and far between, so much so as to be non-existent. Her only real friends like that were Nick's friends. Rosalee. Trubel. Bud. She looks away, feeling a rush of emotion at the way she lived her life before Nick, and wonders again if they have any idea what's going on.

Still, she was always good at manipulating someone, and if the situation calls for it, if it means keeping Nick and her children safe, she won't hesitate to do it. Finding someplace remote but relativity close will eliminate the risk, too, of being caught on the road by some deputy sheriff or state trooper alerted by a BOLO.

"His influence won't be confined to Portland for long, especially if other Wesen get wind of what he's proposing."

"I know, but it will still take him some time to amass enough power outside of Portland, but he doesn't need it if he has a warrant out for my arrest for murder and kidnapping and whatever other charges he can think up, and my picture posted everywhere."

"So, do you have someplace specific in mind in Montana, or are we just going to wind up every mountain road we come along until we run out of gas and money?" Nick slides his gaze to her for a second.

"There's a place called Whitefish. I'm thinking somewhere near there."

"Okay. Why Whitefish?"

"It's fairly remote, but there's a ski resort nearby I think I might be able to find some work. During the summer months, it's quiet, but during the winter it's pretty bustling."

"How do you know?"

"When my aunt was alive, one of the places we lived was in Idaho for a short time. I went to Whitefish a couple of times with friends. I used to know a guy whose mom worked there. It's a nice place, and they're looking to beef up staff for the season," Nick says, opening the paper to the classifieds. He taps his finger on a large help-wanted ad.

"Are we on the cover?" Adalind asks, taking the paper from him and reading.

"Very funny," Nick says distractedly. "We're going to need money sooner rather than later. We still need to ditch the car, and stealing one's not an option. We don't need any more reason for law enforcement to be looking for us."

"There's a fish and game warden position open," Adalind reads, looking through the rest of the classifieds. "Why don't you try for that? That's more in your wheelhouse, isn't it?

"I'm trying to keep a low profile," Nick reminds her.

"Good luck with that. The pay's pretty good," she continues, reading.

"Forget it. I'm pretty sure I can get a job at Whitefish without too much scrutiny, and right now we need as few eyes on us as possible."

"There's paid time off and health insurance included, too," Adalind reads, ignoring him and Nick gives her a look. "With two children, we might need it."

"How do you propose I get this job? I can't very well go in as myself. They'll arrest me as soon as they realize who I am. They do a background check for that," Nick points out. "I have a better chance of getting a job at the resort than fish and wildlife."

"I could help you with that," Adalind says.

"How? We're going to have to ditch our identities," Nick goes on. "You know that, right? Everyone and their mother will be looking for a Nick Burkhardt and an Adalind Schade matching our descriptions."

"I know," she says. "You're right. We're gonna need some fake IDs, papers. Rosalee might be able to get us some?"

"Forget about that. Renard will be watching them for any sign of us. It's safer for them if we don't involve them at all. No contact, nothing."

"Do they have any idea where you were planning to go?"

"No. They don't have any idea I even left Portland."

"Nick," Adalind says softly and Nick looks down at the paper, brows scrunching.

"It's better that way. We can't make a break with ties to them, and they can't move on with their lives either if there's any hint of collusion with me. For this to work, we have to make sure we have no contact whatsoever. So, the fakes and Rosalee are out."

Adalind nods, and twists her mouth.

"I might be able to help you with that, then."

She looks up to find Nick raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"What? Fake IDs?"

"What? I know some people," she says, shrugging.

"What people?"

"People," Adalind says, looking back down at the paper.

"In Montana?" he asks incredulously.

"No, Seattle," she says and Nick sits back, considering.

"Wesen?" She shrugs and nods.

"I can be very persuasive," she reminds him coyly, and the other eyebrow joins its sibling, but the surprise on his face is gone, and an expression more like reluctant amusement has taken its place.

"We have to be very careful," Nick warns. "I don't want anything to happen to you or Kelly and Diana. I don't think we should involve other people."

"I don't want anything to happen, either," Adalind tells him seriously, "But I think we're going to have to involve someone. We can't get the type of documents we need – the quality of documents we need – without a little help. I can't make fakes that are going to pass muster. You're good at a lot of things, but I don't think you can either."

Nick stares at her for a long moment.

"You trust this person?" he asks.

"No," Adalind retorts, and Nick rolls his head back against the head rest in frustration. "That doesn't mean he won't do it."

"How do you know he won't say anything?"

"He won't," Adalind says. "I know a spell," she ventures, and Nick snorts. "He won't be _able_ to say anything."

"Wonderful," Nick says.

"Well, what do you suggest we do? Kill him?"

Nick says nothing, and Adalind looks up at him in surprise. She gets the feeling Nick would be all right with that scenario, and it's a testament to how far gone Nick is from upright, uptight detective she met all those years ago.

"What's taking her so long?" Nick asks, looking at the building in front of them and Adalind's attention returns to why they're stopped. Diana.

"I'll check on her," Adalind says, a frisson of fear sliding through her. She didn't realize so much time has passed, but she doesn't know why it's taking so long either. There was only one window, narrow and high up and she doesn't think Diana could even reach it, much less fit through it. And even if she could, where would she even go, and why?

She seems keen on staying with Adalind, but maybe something happened, maybe some consequence of taking off the ring that is finally surfacing. She hurriedly unbuckles her belt and slips out of the car. She stops short when another car pulls in beside them, and she registers Nick stiffening in the seat as he slowly unbuckles his belt, too, studying the vehicle and its occupants with his cop eyes and his mouth sets in a grim line and Adalind's fear ratchets up a notch.

She can't hesitate too long, every strange movement she makes could draw suspicion, so she offers a polite, if strained smile, and continues onto where she last saw Diana. She registers Nick step out of the vehicle, acting as though he's just getting out to stretch his legs.

"Hello," a man says, and Adalind glances behind her and she can tell, even without seeing the embroidered shield on a polo shirt, that the man who offered the greeting is some kind of cop. Like Nick, he just has that stance about him, the way he views his world, and Nick smiles congenially in response, hands loose at his sides.

"This your car?" she hears and now she's not sure what she should do. Continue after her daughter or stay here and help Nick with whatever he's preparing to do. Kelly's in the car, a fact Nick is surely aware of, so he'll be careful to keep the possibility of violence to a minimum.

"Yes sir," Nick says. "Why?"

"That your wife?" the officer says and Adalind freezes.

"Is everything okay?" she calls back, trying to affect a concerned, innocent expression, but her nerves are on fire, and she needs to get to her daughter, make sure she's okay, and she needs to make sure Nick and Kelly stays okay.

"I was going to tell you that your plate is covered with mud," he says and Nick cocks his head. "You can't hardly read it," the cop continues.

That's by design. When Nick took it off the truck at the motel it was covered in dust, but by the time he put it on his truck it had a nice fresh coating of dirt and mud over most of it. Only a couple of portions of the characters are even remotely visible, and most isn't enough to determine what it is.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't pay any attention to it," Nick says.

"You need to get it cleaned off," and Nick nods in agreement.

"Sure thing," he says. "We'll get it cleaned off right away."

The officer nods as he starts walking away, looking over Nick's car and Adalind tenses. "I've got a towel in the trunk," The cop offers.

"That's okay, I think we've got a rag or something we can use," Nick says easily and the cop flicks his eyes to Nick and then back to the car and then Adalind.

"You folks headed up to Flathead Lake?"

"Rapid City, actually. My wife has family there," Nick says, and though he says it with practiced ease, it still takes most of Adalind's concentration not to react to it. _My wife._ She wonders what that would be like, to be Nick's wife. To be married to Nick, but this isn't the time to ruminate on some girlish fantasy, and his life is hardly a fairy tale dream come true, anyway. The cop is still looking over Nick's car, and Adalind wonders what is holding his interest so. Does he recognize it as fitting the description of one described in a BOLO about them?

"Here, let me help you," the cop says, popping his trunk and Nick's mouth does a funny twist before it levels out into a small smile. "Won't take but a minute," the cop continues, pulling a grease smudged towel out of his trunk and kneeling down by the bumper.

"Some of this is really caked on there," the cop remarks, scrubbing at it and Nick shifts and takes a few steps towards the back of his vehicle, and Adalind wonders what he's thinking. It's still possible that this all turns out okay, that it's merely a well-meaning officer who will help them get back in compliance with their vehicle and let them be on their way, maybe never even realizing that he had encountered fugitives.

"What's the matter, mommy?"

Adalind whirls in relief to see Diana standing behind her, watching the scene unfold curiously.

"Uh, nothing. Nothing, sweetheart, this nice young officer is just helping us and then we'll be on our way."

Diana's appearance has attracted everyone's attention. Nick looks over his shoulder at her, checking her over carefully, before determining she must be okay and turning his attention back to the cop who is also looking her over. He has a strange expression on his face and Adalind's getting a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Hello," the cop calls and Diana merely looks at him. "Shouldn't you be in school, sweetheart?"

"She's homeschooled, actually," Nick says and the cop flicks his eyes to him, and Adalind's chest constricts painfully. They've aroused his interest, and that can't be good.

"Miss, can you and the girl come down here for a sec?" Adalind's heart feels like it's going to beat out of her chest. She doesn't dare look now towards Diana or Nick, but it takes every ounce of willpower to turn and start trudging back down the path she came.

"Sure, is there a problem?" Adalind says, finally chancing a casually confused look at Nick, but he's looking at the cop, trying to gauge his opportunity.

"Stand right there," The cop says, pointing to a spot by his car. Diana follows, and moves to stand beside her, looking between the adults.

"Sweetheart, why don't you go get back into the car," Adalind says to her and the cop shakes his head.

"Actually, why don't you come down here. Miss?" the cop says, wiggling two fingers in a _come here_ gesture at Diana.

"Is something the matter, deputy?" Nick asks, and now that Adalind's up close she can see that the embroidered shield is that for a county sheriff's deputy.

"You, stand there," the deputy says pointing to Nick, when he shifts slightly, and Nick frowns.

"What's going on?" Adalind asks, forcing herself to keep her eyes forward on Nick and the cop, and not back where she hopes Diana is still behind her.

"You look just like a BOLO that came through this afternoon of a missing girl, believed to be traveling with a woman assumed to be her mother, and another small child." He glances at Nick, expression no longer friendly. "It mentioned a man traveling with them, kind of matches your description," he says to Nick, and Nick smiles and scoffs lightly.

"A BOLO?" Adalind laughs, trying to keep the man's attention focused on her, and not on Nick. "Like one of those wanted posters, or something? That's ridiculous."

"You got any ID on you?" the cop asks.

Nick smiles and says, "Sure, I think I left my wallet in the truck. He turns, eyes meeting Adalind's for a second.

"Stay right there," the cop says, and looks to Adalind.

"You?" he asks her.

"Yeah, of course, in my purse." He looks at her, noting she's not wearing a purse on her shoulder.

"Let me guess, also in the truck."

"Yeah, we were just stopping to use the restroom," Adalind says. The cop looks at Nick again scrutinizing him.

"Stand over here, sir," he directs, pointing at his cop car. "Put your hands on the vehicle."

"What? Why?" Nick asks, stalling.

"Sir, put your hands on the vehicle."

"You really think I'm this guy from your poster?" Nick continues, turning slow, buying time, gauging his opening.

Adalind takes a couple of steps closer to Nick.

"Miss. Stop right there," the cop says to her, close enough to Nick now he's almost got his hands on him. Just as he does, Nick makes his move, spinning rapidly and managing to throw his elbow back. The cop woges, revealing the ugly face of a Furis Rubian. The cop reaches for his gun, and Adalind yanks it away with a flick of her arm, and he course corrects with a vicious kick at Nick's knee. Nick collapses, catching himself before he falls face first into the pavement. The Rubian makes a noise but before he can do much further his faces presses in, so much so that it starts caving in on itself. It's as though it's trapped between a vice. Blood spurts from his eyes and a clear fluid begins leaking out of his nose and ears. More blood drains out his mouth, bubbling up as he gasps painfully, before there's a crack of bone breaking, crushing, and rush of fluids escaping in its wake.

The cop falls limply to the ground and Nick stares at the scene before him wordlessly. He raises stunned eyes to Adalind's face, before registering her own horrified expression and his eyes slide behind her.

Diana lowers her arm and meets Nick's eyes.

He eyes her carefully for a long moment, clearly choosing his words.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!_ Adalind thinks. She hasn't had a chance really to talk to Nick, explain the whole thing with Rachel. And find out more about how she influenced Bonaparte's demise. Her daughter is racking up a body count like most girls rack up charges on a phone bill. She's killed three people in as many weeks.

"I didn't like him," Diana says in a high, thin, little girls voice, and the juxtaposition of what she is versus what she's just done is mind-bending. "He tried to hurt you."

And Nick nods in agreement after a moment.

"I didn't want Mommy to be sad."

 _I would be devastated if something happened to him._

Adalind's eyes flick to her daughter, and Nick's eyes flick Adalind's.

"You saved me. Thank you," he says, surveying the mess around him. He looks up at Adalind and Adalind looks down at the ground after a moment, too.

A cop is dead.

She looks at the car, an unmarked Dodge Durango, but still, she can see all the latest equipment in it, and wonders if he radioed in that was stopping to notify a driver that his plate was obscured. He would have radioed in a description of the vehicle, and now they really need to offload Nick's car somewhere, and soon. She's extremely grateful that Nick made sure to cover up the license because every cop who wasn't already looking for them in Idaho will be now with a new body, and that of a law enforcement officer.

Their lives, already ridiculously complicated, have become even more so.

She looks at all the evidence they're going to have to dispose of and cover up and wonders where to even start.

"There's a tarp in the back of the truck. Get it," Nick says, obviously not as frozen with indecision as she is. She shivers and realizes she hasn't put on her coat. The wind is still gusting and the clouds in the sky make her think snow's getting ready to fall.

"Adalind," Nick snaps, and she pulls her eyes away from the sky and moves to where he indicated. She opens the back of the Land Cruiser and hears Kelly babble.

"Diana," she says, realizing her daughter is watching them curiously, "why don't you get in the car and keep an eye on your brother."

"Okay," she agrees and Adalind makes sure she's in the car before she looks back at Nick.

"Spread it out," he instructs, grabbing an end that flaps in the wind as she unfolds it. She realizes his intent. He's going to roll the body onto the tarp and then roll the tarp up around it. They work quietly and quickly, Nick glancing over his shoulder at the road behind him and Adalind looks, too. Nick's SUV blocks some of the view, but there's a good chance anyone else travelling could stop here, at any time. The road has been sporadic at times with traffic, and they're traveling at a time of day where they're easily visible to the naked eye.

"Here. Pop the trunk," Nick says, handing the cop's keys to Adalind, and she hurries to comply, fumbling with the keys for a moment and then raising the hatch.

"Grab his legs," Nick says, voice straining with the dead weight as he loops his arms under and around the cops and props him up, and Adalind hurries back, looking at the body, wrapped tightly in the tarp and she can't help but think of Sean's campaign manager, looking much the same. They dump him unceremoniously in the back of the vehicle, and Nick looks around at the ground where they moved the body.

He grabs a container of gasoline from the trunk of the cop's car and pours some on the pavement, the gas and the blood and other matter mixing slowly. If he was expecting it to wash away the evidence, he's sorely disappointed.

"Here, take my keys," he says, holding them out. "Get into the truck and head east."

"What are you going to do with all this?" Adalind asks him, indicating the car and the body. "I'll follow behind in the car and catch up with you. We're going to have to find some place to dump it," he says, looking back at the car. He looks down at the mess at his feet.

"What about this?" she asks, looking down, too.

"I'll take care of it." He says cryptically, and she looks up at Nick.

"Nick," she says, glancing into Nick's truck where Diana is watching them closely.

"Go, we don't have a lot of time. Anyone can come along here at any time, and we need to be on the road and over the state line by nightfall. The roads are likely to get bad," he adds, looking above him. "Snow this time of year is pretty significant, especially up in the mountains. We'll probably have to find someplace to spend the night," he says with a sigh.

The longer they linger, the likelier it is that someone will discover them. There's still the matter of getting rid of Nick's car, and it seems imperative now more than ever that they do that as soon as possible.

Nick holds the door open for her and Adalind steps carefully around the mess at her feet and slides in.

"I'll be right behind you," he promises, and she nods. She sticks the key in the ignition and starts his truck, pulling out of the parking spot slowly. Her last view of Nick is in his review mirror, his dark head bent as he pulls a fire extinguisher from the trunk and walks back to the mess from the cop. She catches Diana's eye and tries for a smile, but she's stretched thin and she can't make her mouth work quite right.

"Is Nick not coming with us?" Diana asks as Adalind glances at Kelly in the rearview. He's awake and alert.

"He'll be right behind us in a moment," Adalind says. She has no idea where she's going. Nick said Whitefish, but she has no idea where that's at, other than Montana. She has no idea if they're even heading east, but she went in the direction Nick pointed and now she's trying not to show how worried she is that Nick's not with them. She doesn't have her phone or GPS, and she has no idea if Nick even has a map in his car. She's worried that someone might come along and see Nick trying to dispose of evidence and something happening to him. He's hardly helpless, she reminds herself. It's pretty damn hard to kill a Grimm.

And yet, it can be so easy.

"Diana," she says, clearing her throat. "I know you were trying to help Nick, but you shouldn't have done that."

"Are you mad, mommy? You said you would be sad if something happened to Nick and that man wasn't very nice to him. I didn't want to see you sad."

"I'm not mad, sweetheart, I… I'm grateful that you wanted to keep him safe." So grateful, she thinks, hoping that maybe she won't have to worry about Diana takes Nick being a part of their lives. "I… just… it's like what we talked about. You can't use your powers like that in public."

"You used yours," Diana points out, staring at her mother in the mirror. Adalind swallows.

"Yes, but, I—I—I'm an adult, and sometimes there's consequences that you don't fully grasp when you're young," and she thinks about all the wrong decisions she's made over the years, all the bad ones, motivated by noble reasons, and bad reasons, that only made life more complicated. Of course, the seemingly biggest bad decision led a winding and difficult road to her greatest loves, Diana, Kelly, and Nick.

"Just because you have the means doesn't always mean you should exercise the right. You have to be careful," she advises, still looking for Nick. It's hard to argue this point when Diana probably did save Nick's life. She, at the very least, saved him from incarceration. She's reminded, though, of how difficult it's going to be to make this work. To make Diana seem like every other child when she's so clearly not. Being away from Sean, being with Nick, should help her construct a better environment for Diana, and Kelly, to grow up in. To understand how and when you should use your powers. To be a better Hexenbiest than Adalind was, growing up under the tutelage of her selfish mother.

She breathes a sigh when she finally sees Nick behind them a few more miles down the road. He zooms up close behind her, flashes the lights once, and then, when she slows, he moves around her, waving his hand for her to follow.

She does, for another fifteen or so miles she estimates, keeping a sedate distance behind, nerves stretched taught, wondering what they're going to do about the dead cop and his car, when Nick slows dramatically and executes a sharp turn to the right. It's practically a cow path, and Adalind winces with every stiff jostle of the vehicle as she follows Nick deeper and deeper into the woods, climbing and then descending sharply, so much so it scares her. She wonders how the hell they're going to get up this hill to get back to the road. The path is so narrow there's no place to turn around, and she finally stops, watching Nick's car—the cop's car-disappear further into the trees ahead of her.

"What are we doing?" Diana asks, and Adalind shakes her head. "You guys stay here, okay. Don't go anywhere."

Not that there's anywhere to go, and Kelly is asleep, she notes gratefully, oblivious to the insanity going on around him.

"Okay," Diana says.

"I'll be right back."

It's freezing. She's still not wearing a coat, and she shivers and tells herself to get moving.

They have to hurry, she thinks. If it starts snowing they'll never get up the hill they just descended and she can't imagine being trapped here. They're so deep into the woods it would be weeks before someone would even think to look this way. Great to hide the one body they need to. She doesn't want to add four more to it. She quickens her pace, glancing back at the truck holding her children and slips a little on the rocky mud and focuses her attention forward again, and on finding Nick.

She finds him probably another three-quarter mile down the hill, still descending, and she's glad she didn't follow him all the way down with the Land Cruiser. He's messing about with the car and his head whips up sharply the moment she comes into view.

"It's me," she says unnecessarily, because who else could it be?

"Anyone behind you when you turned?" he asks.

"No. There hasn't been anyone behind me in miles." Nick was the last one. "What are you doing?"

"Just making sure the car's wiped down," Nick said and she can see he has the same dirty cloth the cop gave him to clean off the license plate in his hand. She can see splatter of the dirt from the plate, and blood, and Adalind's eyes trail from it, to Nick, who's also splattered in a few drops of blood.

"Nick, your shirt," she says, and looks down at hers, but she wasn't standing as close to the cop as Nick was, and Nick looks down and frowns. "I'll have to lose it somewhere," he says and he looks out over the hood, in front of him, and for the first time Adalind registers the sound of running water. She steps forward, walking in front of the cop's car and spots a small brook another fifty feet down a steep embankment and she realizes what Nick has in mind.

"You think anybody will find him?" she asks. There will be lots of people looking, she knows. Killing a cop. A lot of resources will be dedicated to finding the person responsible.

"Doubtful. Not for a while, anyway," Nick says. "I don't plan to be anywhere near here when they do."

She nods and shivers again, not sure if she's more bothered by the cold than what they are getting ready to do. Nick's arguably taken more lives than she has, but she can remember a time when she wasn't so bothered by something like this and wishes it wasn't bothering like this now.

"She saved your life," she says, inviting the conversation that she's been dreading since this began, trying to put a positive spin on what happened, because what other positive could there be for a prepubescent child who's committed murder. "Twice," she adds, because there's a void of sound after she says it and she has to fill it with something. Nick looks at her, nodding once slightly.

"She's more powerful than I expected," Nick says, finally, and Adalind's not sure what that means. If he means it as it appears, or if there's something deeper in it that he's not saying.

"It's dangerous. She's dangerous," and there, he's said it.

He's fearful of her daughter.

She's fearful of her daughter. She's scared to admonish Diana too harshly or there might be consequences for her, or Nick, or even Kelly.

"She doesn't understand what she's doing," Adalind argues, "she's a child. She's emotional," and there's not much solace in that.

"That makes her even more dangerous. And unpredictable," he counters. "My mother always thought it was best for Diana to be raised as normally as possible, given her powers," Nick says.

"Well, the best way to handle it is to make sure she's surrounded by the right kind of people," Adalind says, looking at Nick, "make sure she has positive examples to go by, and that the people who are around her love her and want the best for her," she continues, hoping that Nick is willing to take that burden on, like he has so many others.

Would they even be here if he didn't? She tries to console herself, but she knows there's a lot of information now that Nick didn't have before, and he has to be second guessing this idea of his at every turn, because Adalind sure as hell is.

Still, he was never the type to scare easy.

"We're going to have to keep a close eye on her," Nick says, nodding, and she breathes a sigh of relief at the word. _We're._ He glances up above him, and Adalind realizes snow has started to fall, a few tiny, heavy wisps.

"She likes you," Adalind adds, because she can't explain the need to explain that her daughter is impetuous, but she's a good person who's just been under some bad influences as of late, and has no real concept of the power she wields and what it can do.

"That's probably a good thing," Nick says, and Adalind meets his eyes. "I wonder if she'll like me so much if she understands I'm the reason we'll probably never see her father again."

"She's okay with it, as long as she's with me," Adalind insists and she hopes it true. She's not sure that Diana understands how long, if ever, it will be until she sees Sean again. That a child truly has a concept of what amount of time that is and what it means. Or if a "long time" to Diana is a week or a month. "She wouldn't ever hurt you," she adds, and she hopes it's true. "She knows how much it would hurt me."

Nick meets her eye, and nods again, and sighs, looking at the cop's car, returning to the matter at hand.


	5. Part One - Chapter Five

AN: Sorry for the delay. Real life has been a bear as of late, but here's the next part. Thank you all for the reviews they make my day. As always, feedback is appreciated.

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By the time they make the treacherous journey to Nick's truck, the snow is coming down more steadily now. There's a light coating on the ground, making the ascent back up to the car dangerous, and the drive back up the path so nerve-wracking that every muscle in Adalind's body aches from the stiffness. The steep ascent they have to climb, coupled with the high back end of the truck, makes it impossible to see the ground behind them clearly. They had to drive in reverse the whole way, Nick using his side mirrors and the path ahead of him to orient himself, and there were a few times when Adalind thought they were going to go right off the path into the unknown, or get stuck in wet mud where it wasn't packed down so well, and that and the snow combined to make the tires slip and the truck rock dangerously back down the hill in an uncontrolled descent. By the time Nick manages to get them back on the main vein that brought them into the woods, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief as the car leveled out.

Nick takes a moment to collect himself, too, revealing his own nerves, and then slings his hand over the back headrest of Adalind's seat and reverses the rest of the way out to the road again, pausing to let a logging truck roll past before pulling out and heading east again.

"We're going to have to stop somewhere," Nick murmurs two hours down the road. They're heading north now, or so one of the road signs says, and the snow is blanketing the road. Their forward progress has slowed to a crawl along the highway.

"How far out are we?" she asks. They've been on highway 93 what feels like forever. The last sign she saw said something about the next town being 41 miles out, but she doubts if they've even traversed twenty in the last hour.

"Too far," Nick says. "They're likely to start closing the highways. We need to find someplace to stay the night before we're stranded. I need to buy some chains, too. They won't let us up the mountains without them."

"Where the hell can we stop? We're in the middle of nowhere, Nick," she says. Kelly's been restless, in desperate need of food, and to move about outside the confines of his car seat, and Adalind knows Diana and Nick have to be hungry as well.

"Can we have more French fries?" Diana pipes up from the back. "I'm tired of sitting in the car," she adds, and Adalind turns to soothe her.

"I know, honey, we just have to be patient a little while longer."

"Start looking for anything that might have some lodging," Nick instructs, but all Adalind sees are trees, trees, and snow-covered trees, and it's on the tip of her tongue to remark they should look for an axe or a chainsaw, and then they could just build a log cabin, but she nods and looks around as they creep along. It's another hour of slow going before they finally come into the town Adalind had seen on the sign. The hope she had of finally being in civilization is short-lived when she realizes it's another small town, smaller even than the one with the general store-restaurant-gas station they stopped at before and she doesn't have much hope for finding a place to stay for the night. The snow's starting to stick to the wiper blades, and visibilities becoming more and more an issue, and she's realizing they may have to bunk down in Nick's SUV for the night.

"Maybe we should just find somewhere we can park for the night," Adalind suggests and Nick frowns in the dim light that remains from the day.

"We might be snowed in."

"We're going to be snowed in whatever we find," and Nick's frown deepens. There's quite a bit of snowfall on the ground, with more falling steadily, and the it's clear it's been a while since a plow has gone through.

"There," Nick says, a note of triumph in his voice, and Adalind looks around, wondering what has him so excited.

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Well, she's stayed in worse, she thinks. There was that cabin in the woods where Diana was born. That dungeon at Victor's in Austria.

That last motel they'd stayed in a night ago. God, had it only been a night ago?

She doesn't know how Nick finagled the manager to let them rent this place in the middle of a snowstorm, and she doesn't know how they made it up here alive to somewhere so remote. They had to walk the last half mile in a steady snowfall, Nick's SUV unable to continue into the woods where it was located. She doesn't even know how he located it, but Nick has an amazing sense of location and she wonders if that's some Grimm instinct.

Kelly is swaddled tight and held close to her body in a makeshift sling. Diana's adorned in Nick's gloves and hat, both well too big for her and Adalind worries that her children are okay. She and Nick are laden down like pack mules with the supplies from the truck, but there's still more to grab, and that means at least one more trip to the car and back and Adalind has a selfish moment where she's grateful it won't be her. Nick, of course, will make the hellish trip there and back, not even up for discussion since he will expect her to stay with the kids, and she's not even sure she can summon a token argument otherwise.

They reach the place that had Nick so excited to find in the car, a billboard advertising rustic cabins, and this one is a small hunting cabin in the woods, and they weren't lying about any of it.

It's a one room cabin deep in the woods, with a small bed, a log framed futon, end table, chair, and a dining table with two more chairs and a fireplace. There's a tiny stove, and a tiny fridge, that's probably more a cooler than anything, and three small windows, two on either side of the door and one on the back wall of the building.

There's apparently no running water despite a closet-sized bathroom with a shower head, and no electricity, and Adalind suppresses a sigh and turns to the first matter at hand: getting her children warm.

"I'm going to head back down for the rest of the gear," Nick says, and Adalind nods, looking at him. His cheeks are ruddy and snow's sticking to his hair. She looks at the fireplace and realizes that haven't any kindling and it's likely with all the snow, they wouldn't find anything dry, anyway.

"The guy said there's some firewood on the side," Nick says, noticing where her attention is located. "I'll bring some in. Hopefully some of it is dry."

She nods and smiles when she notices Diana watching them closely. Nick notices the scrutiny too and excuses himself outside. She doesn't have much hope that it is, but she needs to stay positive.

"This reminds a little bit of when you were born," she says to her daughter and Diana's eyes brighten in interest.

"You were born in a cabin not too different from this, but you're too little to probably remember that."

"Meisner was there," Diana says with confidence, and Adalind is a bit taken aback. Perhaps Meisner had told her.

"Yes, he was," she confirms. "He helped me when I was in labor with you."

"Can we go see Meisner?" Diana asks hopefully.

"I—I don't think so," Adalind says carefully. _Meisner's dead._ She remembers hearing, and after everything she's been able to piece together she doesn't doubt it's true. She can hardly imagine it, a man that so bravely risked his life to keep her and her daughter safe, was finally felled by the very man who paid Meisner to get Adalind and their daughter safely out of the country.

"Why not?"

"Honey, something happened, and Meisner passed away," she says, sliding her hands on either side of Diana's forearms.

"Did somebody kill him?"

Adalind bites her lip and nods slowly, deciding on not sugarcoating the truth.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I think someone associated with Bonaparte," she says vaguely, though Diana looks at her as if she doubts her answer.

"Is that why we can't see daddy? Is someone going to hurt him?" Diana asks worriedly.

 _I hope so,_ Adalind thinks uncharitably. Manipulating her into this situation, forcing her to have to choose between her children and Nick—Adalind's ready to hurt him herself. All the ways his selfishness have decimated her life, playing on her loyalties and the love she once had for him so long ago, when she was young, and stupid, and believed the feelings she had weren't as one-sided as they turned out to be. The way he had a hand in humiliating her, discarding her after she lost her powers. The way he's always used her, the way she let herself be used, thinking she could use him as well.

All that time wasted with him.

"I don't know. But I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, and neither is Nick." Diana nods, but she doesn't look mollified by Adalind's answer. She pulls away from her grasp, milling about the space, looking things over. Thinking things over.

Nick returns with the firewood, apparently having found some that was usable, and after a few minutes and some much-needed help from Diana, he gets a fire going.

"Thank you," he says, smiling at her.

"Did you know Meisner?" Diana asks him, and Nick's eyes flick momentarily from Diana to Adalind in question before focusing back on Diana again.

"I did. He helped me out once or twice."

"Mommy says he's dead."

"He is," Nick says after another look at Adalind, clearly wondering what has brought on this topic of conversation.

"Do you know who killed him?"

Nick's eyes glance up again at Adalind as Nick fumbles for an answer.

"I'm not sure that's something we need to be thinking about right now," he says. "Are you worried something will happen to you?" he asks, trying to get at the root of her question.

"No," she says simply, and given how powerful she is now, Adalind can understand the easy confidence. "You know who killed him," she continues in the same tone. "Was it Mr. Bonaparte?" Nick stares at her for a long moment.

"Diana, knowing who killed him isn't going to change the fact he's not coming back," Adalind jumps in, but Diana's eyes stay locked on Nick.

"Yes," Nick says finally. "It was one of his men."

Diana stares at him for a long moment, her eyes glow phosphorescent lilac and the cabin begins to rumble and shake. Nick glances around him as things begin rattling off the walls and mantle.

"Diana. Diana!" Adalind shouts. The cabin is vibrating so strongly she's sure the glass in the windows will break, and she can only imagine how cold and damp it will be in here with nothing between them and the elements, and the wind whipping through the cabin.

"Calm down. There's nothing we can do to change what happened. We just have to move on and know that Nick and I are going to do everything possible to keep you and Kelly safe. I finally have both my children together under one roof. We're going to focus on that. Meisner risked his life several times to keep you safe until the day where you and I could be reunited and be together again." She doesn't say a family, because she doesn't want Diana to picture Sean in that equation.

The rattling subsides and Diana nods after a moment.

"I'm going to go get the rest of the supplies from the truck," Nick says. "Are you guys going to be okay while I'm gone?"

Diana nods again and Adalind says, "sure."

Adalind goes about seeing what the place offers, and it's not much to speak of beyond four walls and a roof, which with the winter storm raging, she's happy for. Nick's gone a long time, a good forty-five minutes or more, during which time Adalind gives Diana special permission to use her powers to feed the fire and boil some water.

The stove is operated by propane gas, and she's surprised to find some fuel still in the tank that operates it, but she can't keep it lit. She sets about trying to cook some dinner with the meager groceries she brought with her, wishing she could give her kids a real meal, not that she's any kind of great cook, but she's come a long way since Kelly was a newborn, and even Nick has begun to greet her dinner concoctions with gusto instead of the mild trepidation they used to feel when she cooked something, leading her to believe she was at least developing some skill in that arena. She gives Diana the task of readying the table, something that takes all of five minutes with the little supplies they have, and she's grateful the cabin has four dinged tin plates and a few pots to use, though she wonders if they'll have to eat with their hands, but she finds a handful of mismatched utensils and figures she and Nick can bear the worst of it. She tells Diana to go about getting the beds ready for the night, and still another twenty minutes later, Nick has yet to appear.

She should have gone with him, she thinks, though it's insane. No way can she leave her children here alone, and no way would she have them go out again in that mess.

There are some wesen that live in the forest, even fewer still some that would brave this mess, and her mind conjures up all the things Nick could be confronting, not the least of which was snow-blindness and hypothermia when she hears boots stamp loudly on the porch outside.

"Nick's back," Diana calls, playing with a layered Kelly on the floor by the fire, and she gets to her feet and skips to the door as it bangs open.

Nick is covered in snow, eyelashes decorated with frozen crystals and he smiles gratefully when Diana takes some of packages he's loaded down with, including Kelly's snow-covered baby seat filled with supplies. He drops the rest on the floor by his feet, and stamps the ground again, trying to rid himself of the excess snow still clinging to him. Adalind hurries to his side, grabbing the other items and pushes him towards the fire and their son, pulling the lone arm chair in the living space closer to it.

"Sit," she instructs and Nick glances at her, but complies. His boots are caked with snow, despite his earlier efforts to rid himself of it, as are his pants legs. She kneels to start unlacing his shoes and Nick leans forward with frozen fingers to help.

"Didn't you wear gloves?' she asks, noticing they're bare.

"Yeah, I just took them off," he says, pulling them out of the pocket of his jacket, and he shrugs out of it as well, displacing more snow and water and Adalind grabs the thing and takes it back to the door to shake it out.

"Stay there, and warm up," she says, draping a blanket around his shoulders and it says more than anything when Nick doesn't disagree and does exactly as he's told.

She finishes dinner, nothing special, just plain spaghetti noodles and a jar of sauce, but everyone slurps it down like it's heaven on earth and Adalind wishes she had made more. They have to ration out their supplies, though, and afterwards everyone's so tired that they all decide to retire for the night. She thinks it's about nine or ten o'clock now. It was after seven when they abandoned the car for the night and though they spent much of the day sedentary, the short walks they did take expended a lot of energy. Nick makes sure to throw a couple of more logs on the fire, and brings another couple armfuls in to dry out some more, before he settles in for the night.

She's surrounded by both her children in the surprisingly comfortable futon/bed, but maybe it's just the fatigue and stiffness from being trapped in the car all day long that makes it feel so good now. Nick's ten feet away in the single bed, and judging by the amount of shifting she hears, it's not very comfortable, and he's wide awake, too. She longs to join him, though she doubts she would add to the comfort any, the bed hardly wide enough for Nick, much less Nick and her. She listens to him shift and debates on saying anything, but she doesn't want to wake Diana and she's not sure what to say anyway.

Instead she listens to the wind howl outside, twisting the ring Bonaparte bestowed on her with another finger and wonders how they plan on getting out of this mess.

%%%%%

It's almost beautiful.

Under different circumstances this could be enchanting, romantic, even, staying in a snow-covered cabin in the snow-covered woods out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to bother them.

Except with two small children and twenty-four hours spent trapped inside it, it's a nightmare.

There's nothing to do but wait. At least two feet of snow has fallen and they're definitely snowed in for the foreseeable future. Nick tried to make his way down the mountain to the truck, but he didn't even get halfway before he turned back.

The only good thing about being snowed in and unreachable is they're snowed in and unreachable.

Anyone looking for them is going to have a time even getting to them, provided anyone looking for them has any idea where they are.

Nick's used to sitting and waiting, likely he considers this no different than a stakeout, and even Adalind's gotten used to confinement over the years, but Diana's slowly driving them all crazy, and it's mid-morning two days after landing at this place that she finally ushers Diana outside. Kelly's sleeping soundly in his baby carrier and Nick's going over some maps and charts he took from the cop's car to plan his route to Whitefish, and Adalind's finally able to see where it is and where they are relative to it. It doesn't look to be more than a day's drive away, provided the weather's good, and she's relieved to know that the end, such as it were, of this leg of the journey is near.

"We're just going to take a walk outside," Adalind explains to Nick as he dubiously watches her dress for the outdoors. Diana's donning his knit hat and gloves again, and Adalind flashes a reassuring smile at Nick and Diana and proceeds out the door, where she discovers that walking in knee high snow is easier said than done.

Diana follows, while Nick steps out onto the porch and watches their drunken process amusedly.

"Hey, while you're out, run along and get me some more firewood along the side of the building. Should take you about an hour or two, at the pace you're going."

"You're hilarious," Adalind remarks, unamused, fighting to keep her balance. Her feet are wet, and rapidly turning cold. She didn't bring snow boots, just like she didn't bring gloves, or a hat, and she's aware that while Diana has Nick's accessories, she's without proper footwear, too.

"Need some help?" he calls, and she can hear the grin in his voice as he watches her stumble from his place on the porch of the cabin.

"No, I got it," she mutters.

"Okay, hopefully you don't fall face first into the snow," he says, turning to go back inside when an explosion of white occurs on the back of his head. "What-the!" he yelps, turning and glaring at Adalind incredulously. Another snowball smacks him right in the face.

"You were saying?" she prompts sweetly. He brushes the snow out of his eyes.

"Okay, that's it," he says dangerously, stepping off the porch, and Adalind summons a handful of snowballs into the air and hurls them at Nick, who ducks most of them, but not Diana's. He looks at her in surprise, and scoops up a large handful of snow.

"Oh, I see how it is," he says. "You two are going to gang up on me, huh?"

Adalind readies another half dozen shots in the air and Nick eyes her challengingly before Diana readies nearly four times that and he gaze switches to her nervously.

"Looks like," Adalind says smugly, but she shakes her head at Diana, and at least a dozen drop back to the ground.

"Okay, ladies, no more Mr. Nice Grimm," he says mock-threateningly but the snowball he hurls at Adalind splatters against an invisible barrier Diana erected.

"Really?" he says, and Adalind smirks, sharing in the smile with her daughter. She always did love besting Nick.

He tosses another half-hearted pass at them, scooping up another couple handfuls of snow that he lobs at them, and scoops up what appears to be a tire iron leaning against the porch steps. He swings away at a few of their pitches, demonstrating some remarkable skill, and Adalind recalls distantly a comment he made about playing baseball growing up. Of course, the reflexes he's honed as a Grimm are a large factor here, too, but Diana must think this is a fun aspect of their fight since she offers some various pitches as well, that Nick easily bats away.

"Going to have to try a little harder, ladies," he goads and Adalind exchanges a look with her daughter and they up the intensity. Snowballs fly at Nick from all directions and he takes a few more wild swings before he flings his make shift bat high in the air away from him.

"Ha!" Adalind cries triumphantly, sharing another grin with Diana. "We win!"

Nick smirks inexplicably.

"Did you?" he asks laconically, and her brow sinks in confusion right before she registers the tire iron land into the trees behind her and Diana, and then a big lump of snows crashes onto both of them.

"Ahhhh!" she shrieks. The snow is cold, and heavy, and _wet._ She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the snow and glances above her, where she can now see some bare branches swaying where the tire iron cut through them. Diana shrieks and laughs, and Adalind starts laughing as well, before she's pounded with another round of dislodged snow from above. She sputters and squints an eye up for more, but that appears to be it for the time being.

"You!" she says, catching Nick's smug eye. He looks relaxed, almost happy, and it's nice to see after his face has been so weary with the stress and pressures of being on the run.

 _Yes_ , she thinks, _they could make this life work_. It was worth fighting to make this work. This could be their life together, teasing and playing, and raising two beautiful children together, who deserved parents who loved them and loved each other, and the chance to grow up away from all the hardships their parents had suffered.

"You were saying?" he asks, chuckling. She tries to move, but now she's surrounded by even more snow than before and she struggles to free herself, which only adds to Nick's humor.

"Need some help?" he offers again.

"No!" Adalind shouts, because she's always been a bit stubborn. "Yes," she says after a moment, and Diana grabs a hand and pulls, and she gets one leg free, but loses a shoe, and begins hobbling and shrieking, trying not to set her sock-covered foot down in the cold, wet, snow.

"Nick! Nick!"

Nick stops laughing long enough to make his way to her. "What's the matter?"

"I lost my shoe!" she says, and she can barely even see it now in the snow that caved in over it. Nick grins boyishly, obviously still finding this plenty amusing and she dumps a handful of snow down his shirt as he's bent over to look.

"Ha!" she says haughtily, but she can't run anywhere with her one shoeless frozen foot (and the one covered frozen foot, she might also add), and Nick easily hefts her over his shoulder as he moves to stand back up.

"My shoe! Nick! Don't forget—Diana!" and Diana telekinetically lifts the shoe from the snow and follows Nick back to the cabin. Nick pauses at the steps, checking to make sure Diana is following and that she's okay, before he shifts Adalind's weight on his shoulder and steps onto the porch.

"You can put me down now," Adalind says.

"I could," Nick agrees, and she frowns.

"What are doing?"

"Isn't it more fun to find out than for me to ruin the surprise by telling you?"

She can easily imagine her saying that to him in another life if the situation was reversed. They always did have some great repartee, and some amazing chemistry, whether he would admit it then or not. She always did claim he'd be a lot of fun had their relationship gone that way earlier.

"No," she says, and she hears Nick chuckle lightly. "Nick, put me down," she demands and after a moment he complies, leaning forward to set her gently on her feet.

Her toes are numb, and the foot without the shoe isn't faring much better. Her hair is wet and sticking to her face and neck, as is most of her clothing. She glares at Nick when he finally stands back up, and the look in his eyes is gentle, yet intense and loving, and so very much like the Nick who could look at her and leave her breathless without ever saying a word. She wants desperately to close the distance and kiss him, but Diana is standing right there, not two feet away from them, watching, always watching, and she's still not sure how Diana will take it when she understands the depth of Adalind's feelings for the man before her.

She said she loved Nick. She said Nick made her happy, she reasons, and it's this that motivates her to lean forward and press a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, despite the fact she wants to do so much more.

"Thank you," she says softly, and the look in Nick's eyes deepens and he bobs his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Now you know what happens when you mess with a Grimm, ladies," he says with a wink at Diana, who watches the whole exchange with a more subdued expression on her face.

 _Yes,_ Adalind thinks. _You fall in love with one._


	6. Part Two - Chapter One

AN: Resetting back to the beginning and checking in with the scoobies. Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and faves.

%%%%%

"Still nothing from Nick?"

"No, not a thing."

"It's so weird," Monroe says. "Have you tried calling him?"

"Yeah. About a dozen times," Hank replies in a tone that says _Duh!_ , shaking his head. "Not going to do any good, though."

"Why?" Rosalee asks.

"Found his and Adalind's phones on the side of a road in Northwest Portland this morning. What's left of them anyway."

"What's left of them?"

"They shattered on impact."

"He found Adalind?" Trubel cuts in. She's leaning against one of the tunnel walls, one foot braced against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. Eve is standing beside her, listening intently, but Hank thinks something is still not right with her after everything that happened with the stick. There's a look on her face that makes him think she's in pain, but the cut from the glass Bonaparte flung at her has healed completely. He's left to wonder what exactly the stick did to her besides shake loose a brick or two in the wall that held the essence of Juliette trapped.

He also has to wonder where the stick is, because it wasn't in the loft when they searched for it, along with any signs of clues for Nick and what might have happened to him.

"I'm assuming," Hank continues with a shrug.

"Oh, thank God," Rosalee breathes.

"No sign of either of them, or any one matching their description," Wu says, "and believe us, the captain is really looking."

"So are we," Hank counters.

"I bet," Rosalee says.

"Diana's gone, too?"

"Captain hasn't said, but I can't imagine he'd be going to this much trouble to find Nick if she was still here."

"Adalind wouldn't leave without her daughter," Rosalee agrees. "If Adalind's with Nick than so is Diana."

"You can understand why Nick might think he needs to lie low."

"Yeah, but to have heard nothing? I mean, not one word."

"If that's what he's doing," Wu says.

"Still, Wu's right. I can't believe he hasn't contacted us by now, though," Hank says, shaking his head. "At least let us know they're okay."

"Maybe they're not okay," Monroe says hesitantly, and everyone sobers at this. "I just wish I knew where they're hiding out at. I mean, if not here, if not at the spice shop, or Bud's, then where?"

"I don't know. Nick will make contact when he feels it's safe. Until then, we'll just have to play it cool and be patient," Rosalee replies, but she looks unsettled by the idea as well.

Everyone nods as though they've come to some sort of agreement, but the truth is they don't have a choice in the matter. It's been radio silent from Nick for days now. The last time anyone heard from him was when he had called Monroe, a few days after the massacre at the loft.

Monroe had recounted the conversation four times now, once to Rosalee as soon as he had gotten off the phone, as he had tried to make sense of his friend's ramblings, and then three more times, one to Hank, and then twice collectively to the others as they combed over everything he could remember, which wasn't much, for clues.

 _"_ _Monroe?"_

 _"_ _Hey, Nick, uhhh, kind of busy right now."_

 _"_ _Monroe._ _Listen, I don't have much time."_

 _"_ _What's going on?"_

 _"_ _I need to do what's right for my son."_

 _"_ _Ohhh-kay?_ _Did you find him?_ _Nick?"_

 _"…"_

 _"_ _Nick?"_

 _"_ _I know where they are."_

 _"_ _You're not going after Renard alone again, are you?_ _Nick?"_

 _"_ _They're all I have left, Monroe."_

That had been it.

Nick had sounded determined, dangerous, and slightly unhinged.

But he had sounded that way for days now, so Monroe hadn't been particularly alarmed by that aspect of it, more the cryptic content of the message, and he had hardly any time to voice any complaints or concerns anyway before Nick had hung up on him.

Not to mention, Monroe was dealing with his own family crisis and that was what to do to keep a pregnant Rosalee safe in the middle of what was rapidly becoming total chaos as a new world order tried to assert itself in Portland. So far, they hadn't announced the news they were expecting to the others—and Rosalee was still in the early stage of pregnancy-but that had largely been because of concerns of keeping themselves alive and out of police custody as they hid in the tunnels under the city as the reality hit that Renard might just charge them with aiding and abetting Nick and whatever else he could throw at them.

"He said 'they.' It's no surprise he would go after Adalind, too."

"He feels guilty for his part in taking her daughter away. He knows Adalind's not going to be without either of her children. If he was going after Kelly, then he was going after Adalind, and that means Diana would likely be going with them."

And really, Monroe didn't begrudge Nick his focus on taking back his family. He knew how much he had lost over the last few years and how he valued what little he still had. He knew better than anyone that Nick's feelings for Adalind had changed drastically and that he was most likely in love with her, if he could just admit it to himself, but the continued quiet was starting to bother him. He didn't know what the fact that both Nick's and Adalind's cell phones were found on the side of a road in Portland meant, except he couldn't imagine it meaning anything good. Given what was bearing down on Nick—bearing down on all of them—the complete and utter lack of any clues as to Nick's, or Adalind's, whereabouts were deeply unnerving.

"Maybe Adalind knows someone who's hiding them?" Trubel ventures.

"If Adalind knew someone around here who could hide them, she wouldn't have bothered with telling Nick she was pregnant with his son and seeking protection from him in the first place," Eve points out. "So I doubt she's under the protection of someone who could hide a Grimm and his son and her daughter that she wouldn't have already have contacted when she found out she was pregnant."

Hank frowns grimly in agreement. Looking at her now, it's hard to tell that Juliette is back, but there's a hitch in her voice, subtle, but not one you could ignore if you had known her as long as Hank had, and he doesn't doubt that Juliette is back. There's an expression on her face, one of heartbreak and extraordinary guilt. Given their topic of conversation, it's not hard to fathom why.

Considering the reason why Adalind had to confess her pregnancy at all to Nick was because Juliette had tried to kill her and her unborn child, and had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to help her stay alive. It's galling to think that Nick might have never have known he was a father had Juliette not reacted the way she did.

Nick loves his son, and, Hank suspects, his son's hexenbiest mother. Eve has to suspect it, too. He can't imagine what that realization is like after everything that happened between Nick and Juliette and Adalind. Hank has a hard enough time wrapping his mind around it, so he can't imagine how unfathomable it is for Juli—Eve—whoever's running the show now.

"It's so weird though," Wu says. "It's like they fell off the face of the earth. I mean, there's been nothing. Captain's got BOLOs out on Nick and Adalind and Nick's SUV."

"He probably ditched the Land Cruiser," Hank points out.

"Wouldn't you have found it, though?"

"It's only been a few days. Nick knows police procedure; if he's trying to stay off their radar, he knows what to do to do that. He has quite a bit of experience already circumventing it."

"Right now we can't focus on Nick, we need to focus on ourselves," Rosalee says, pulling her eyes away from Eve. "We've got our own problems to deal with," she adds unnecessarily, and Monroe nods.

"Yeah, like we can't keep meeting down here like this. I mean the smell—"

Hank snorts in agreement. "Captain's got us on a pretty short leash. He's hoping we'll lead him right to Nick and wherever he's hiding Adalind and his daughter. This is the safest place to discuss what's happening, unfortunately, and honestly, I'm not how sure how safe this is."

"We need to find Nick," Trubel interjects.

"Anyone ever think that maybe Nick doesn't want to be found," Wu says.

"He wouldn't just ditch us," Trubel counters. "He's going to make sure Adalind and his son are safe, and then he'll rejoin us."

" _If_ they are safe," Wu stresses again.

"Which is why we need to find Nick. We need to go after the captain and anyone else a part of the uprising before they have a chance to reorganize."

"And do what? We need way more resources than just you and I and a few Wesen," Hank says. "The Wall could've supplied that, but Black Claw destroyed The Wall."

"Nick destroyed Black Claw," Trubel counters. "Bonaparte's dead, and most of those in the uprising who followed him are dead."

"Black Claw might be dead," Hank counters. "But the Captain's still alive and well and intent on taking office as mayor in just a matter of weeks. Some major changes are headed our way."

"And not good ones," Monroe says.

%%%%%

It seems unbelievable that what Wu postulated could be right, but after two more weeks of nothing Hank is starting to wonder. Maybe it's true - Nick doesn't want to be found. Or maybe the captain found him and took care of him and this is all for show, but the amount of resources the captain's putting into it make that seem unlikely. And besides, it's becoming clearer and clearer the captain needs Nick to help restore some order as much as he needs his daughter to help him command the Wesen that are rallying behind him.

That Nick would stay undercover for so long has Hank wondering what he found when he encountered his son. He's been trying to piece together a time line from just before Monroe received Nick's frenzied call to everything they know presently.

Which is precious little.

So many of Nick's movements are unaccounted for in the days leading up to his disappearance after the melee at the loft. Most of that is attributed to the necessity of staying out police sight when he's a wanted man, technically, though Hank has yet to see formal charges filed against him, which is curious in and of itself.

He can't imagine Nick remaining this long out of contact with someone in their group, though. Which, after another week of pondering, leads his mind to contemplate other unpleasant possibilities.

Maybe somebody else found Nick – somebody new – and not affiliated with the Captain's crew of miscreants and sycophants. It seems all sorts of ilk are crawling out of the woodwork now, and surprisingly not everyone's for the new utopia the captain is hinting at, or to have the captain running it as they newly elected mayor, but most are too scared or too divided to do anything about it.

Maybe one of these new factions were the ones who tossed the phones and even took Nick and Adalind. He hears whisperings of royals – plural – all the time now. Maybe one of the royal families that oppose Renard are involved in Nick's disappearance. It wouldn't be the first time.

"You think one of the royals are involved?" Monroe echoes incredulously when Hank voices the idea in yet another tunnel.

"It's not so farfetched," Rosalee interjects worriedly. "He's been targeted by the royals before."

"The cracher-mortel," Eve intones.

"Yeah," Hank says. "Remember they tried to kidnap him and take him out of the country."

"They almost did," Monroe says, and he glances with concern at the circle of friends around him. "Let's not forget Adalind worked for the royals at one point."

"Let's not forget Adalind spurned and pissed off the royals, too," Hank points out. "Her…statement…if you will, led to the arrest of Prince Kenneth…and subsequently his death via a very pissed off Grimm. They might be kind of mad about that."

"And let's also not forget the royals are still desperate to find Diana," Monroe adds.

"Lots of people are looking for her," Eve says, and Rosalee frowns.

"Think about it. Royals ride in, and nail Nick, Adalind and Diana in one fell swoop," Hank tells them. "Maybe they plan to pit them against the captain in some sort of power play."

"If the royals had a Grimm somebody has to have heard about it somewhere," Rosalee pipes up.

"Agreed. It's been centuries since Grimms were aligned with a royal family. Somebody would have heard something," Eve echoes.

"I think we need to check it out," Trubel says, looking at them. She's anxious to beat the bushes, actively pursue a lead in Nick's disappearance. The reconnoitering to go over and over things they already know is grating on her nerves, and, they don't know much anyway. Everything they do know has only led to a number of theories and speculations, that they can't start discounting until they start pursuing. Thus far, there haven't been any concrete leads, and she's been preoccupied with fighting Wesen everywhere she goes. She brushes a drop of water out of her eyes distractedly and Hank looks up at the pipes above them. They're in yet another part of the tunnels under the city. This one smells better than the last, but not by much, and is much deeper into the heart of the city than Nick's loft.

"I agree," Hank says, "but where do we even start?"

"You don't," Eve replies. "Trubel and I are your best resources to look into it. We'll go."

"Uh, the last Grimm standing in Portland and the government's secret weapon leaving us high and dry amidst the civil unrest?" Monroe squeaks. "I'm not sure _both_ of you should go." Hank silently agrees.

"Both of you should go," Rosalee says and Hank and Wu frown.

"What?"

"Until we know where Nick's at there's nothing we can do here right now anyway. Maybe it's best if we all try to resume our lives until we know what's going on. Maybe it will take some of the heat and focus off of us and everything we're doing. I'm worried about Nick," she says when she registers everyone's looks, "but I don't think we can fight what's coming without a better sense of where we all stand. We need to be very careful. There's a lot at stake," she adds, looking at Monroe pointedly and he swallows before nodding his agreement.

"You're right. We need more information."

"Then it's settled. Eve and I will head out tomorrow and see what we can find out."

"You really think the royals may be involved in Nick's disappearance? And is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Wu asks him as they're leaving.

Honestly, Hank's not sure what to think anymore, but by the time they hit the one-month mark he's deeply worried.

Not just about Nick and his whereabouts, but at the changes he sees being made at the station.

Lieutenant Hendrick is appointed the new captain over the precinct as Renard officially steps down in preparation for his taking office, and the first change the new captain makes involves demoting Hank back down to uniform. Wu experiences a setback in his professional career, too, all as a result of their affiliation with Nick and everything that happened.

Their new captain is Wesen, Hank has no idea what, but it's clear he's been put in the position to further Renard's political agenda by influencing the investigations that come through the precinct. It's just as clear he doesn't like Hank. He spends most of his days complicating Hank's investigations, to what end Hank's not always sure, but most likely just to irritate Hank and see if he can discover any details on Nick.

Hank wishes he had any.

He supposes should be thankful he and Wu still have their jobs. Even with the demotion, it still provides them with the resources they need to try and find Nick, combing the reports and looking for any clues in John Does and missing persons that might indicate Nick, and he suspects that's exactly what their new captain and Renard are hoping. All eyes are on them in the station.

Few people dare to bring up Nick's name at the station, leading Hank to believe he's surrounded by more and more wesen sympathetic to Renard's black claw movement than he even realized. The few that do are stunned by Nick's sudden absence and all the things that are implicated with it.

It's been weeks since anyone saw Nick alive, and Hank feels his mouth twist at the distinction. He refuses to believe Nick's dead, but he can't imagine anything other than serious injury or capture has kept Nick quiet for so long.

At two months since the day anyone heard anything from Nick, Eve and Trubel return with not a word of intel that indicates a royal might be in possession of a Grimm. Instead they bring alarming news of the effects of the uprising beyond the borders of Portland and the states. Wesen have declared war on Grimms, war on each other, and war on society, and here in his little fiefdom, Renard is stoking the fire.

Portland's becoming the epicenter of change and every day the bodies and cases pile up on Hank's desk. Renard takes office, minus the photogenic family he campaigned with, and for a while it's almost amusing how he juggles the press as he tries to avoid dealing with it.

Hank half expects him to call a press announcement and declare Nick as some deranged kidnapper who's holding Renard's family for ransom. Every day Hank goes to work dreading a notice that Renard's set a bounty on Nick's head, but thus far all of Renard's efforts to find his daughter and Adalind and Nick have been under the radar, and Hank's trying to figure out what Renard's purpose is with that.

"Isn't it a good thing there's not people with pickaxes out to find Nick?" Monroe asks him when he mentions it to Monroe one day at the spice shop. He's helping Monroe install bars over the window. Monroe and Rosalee have been labeled as sympathizers to the resistance by some of the Wesen who seek to overthrow and the past few weeks have been costly and difficult for them. Monroe seems especially on edge, and Hank thinks despite his denials to the contrary that the mystery surrounding Nick and his whereabouts are eating away at him.

"That we know of," Wu interjects and Hank and Monroe look at him.

"Just because the new mayor hasn't gone public with one doesn't mean he hasn't issued a decree in private that we don't know about. Think about it, we're the last people anyone's going to tell if someone has a price on Nick's head."

"You guys hear anything along those lines?"

Rosalee shakes her head. "I haven't heard anything, but most Wesen are aware that our loyalty has lied with Nick, and Trubel. A lot of people are scared. They don't support what Renard's doing but they can't risk their families and their lives to do anything about it, and being labeled as a Grimm supporter could be deadly. Wu's right: if there is something like that, we're probably not going to hear about it first."

"Most everyone that knew Nick is playing it careful, especially now that he's gone and Renard's taken over as Mayor. They're all waiting to see what's going to happen."

"What's happening is that the Mayor is letting his newfound power go to his head," Wu says, and Hank nods grimly.

"It won't take people long to realize he only cares about his interests not theirs," Rosalee replies, but Hank thinks it takes longer than it should for people to come to that conclusion.

%%%%%

"You wanted to see me, captain?"

"Ah, yes, Sergeant Griffin, come in."

Hank manages to keep the grimace off his face and does as asked. There's another person besides Captain Hendricks in the room, a man in his mid-to-late twenties by the looks of it, sandy blonde straight hair, kind of long for someone on a beat, Hank thinks – reedy and looking fresh out of the academy.

"I'd like to introduce you to your new partner, officer Orwin."

Hank can't hide the disdain when he looks at the kid and ignores the smirk on Orwin's face as he holds his hand out to Hank. Hank ignores the hand, too, as he turns his attention to Hendrick's.

"Captain, I don't have time to break in a new partner."

Nor does he have the inclination. Nick's his partner, and in his absence, he's willing to concede Wu as a fill in, but to officially take on a new one, it seems like he's admitting defeat, or worse, that Nick is well and truly gone – never to come back – by allowing the captain to put him with someone else.

"You need help, Hank. Orwin's ready and willing."

"Then partner me with Sergeant Wu. We could get a lot more accomplished if we work together as a team."

"That's exactly what I want here, Hank. All of us working as a team. Unfortunately, Sergeant Wu's been tasked with some training obligations and he won't be able to assist you consistently with cases like he has in the past," Hendricks says with a conciliatory frown. Hank manages not to roll his eyes, but he'd like nothing more than to reach across the desk, slide his hand behind Hendrick's head and slam his face into the surface of the desk.

"In the meantime, you and Orwin can work together to tackle your caseload. He's very eager to learn," Hendrick says, smile playing at his lips.

"One of yours?" Hank asks plainly, glaring at Orwin, and Hendrick's frown deepens.

"One of ours," Hendrick corrects and Hank doesn't bother to hide his snort of derision. Orwin woges, revealing the visage of a reinigen, before his face morphs back. "After all, we all serve the city of Portland. We're all men in blue," Hendrick adds, and Hank's fairly sure it's a subtle dig at his demotion.

"I'm glad I can perform my civil duty without having to hide who I am," Orwin chimes in. "And I've heard so much about you. I'm so glad the captain partnered me with someone so open minded."

"Right," Hank replies.

"I look forward to hearing your progress reports on officer Orwin," Hendrick continues. "That is all," he says, dismissing them and Hank scowls as he leaves, Orwin right on his heels.

"So, where do you want to start, Sarge?" Orwin asks. "Is this my desk?"

"NO!" Hank barks when he realizes Orwin means to assimilate Nick's desk. Orwin looks up sharply.

"You can have that one," Hank points to the unused third desk at their station, with a sigh and at a lower volume. It will always be theirs – Hank's and Nick's – station until Hank has irrefutable proof otherwise.

"But—" Orwin begins but quickly his protest dies away at Hank's look. He reluctantly takes a seat at the desk Hank indicated. Hank sighs and flops down in his own desk chair and looks at the teetering pile of unsolved cases he's amassing.

The gleeful euphoria of the populace that resulted when Renard took office has given way to equal parts sullen resignation and angry defiance by the citizens of Portland. Infighting among Wesen factions has increased dramatically and once-innocent Kehrseites are being crash-coursed into the Wesen world.

Needless to say the startling realization that the world is populated with otherworldly creatures, and that some of those creatures want to eradicate most of the human population hasn't been met with open minds. Attacks on Kehrseites, and Kehrseite attacks on Wesen have also increased dramatically and it's all Hank can do to solve one case before three more are added to his desk.

"So where do we start?" Orwin asks, noticing Hank's focus. Hank glances up at Orwin and twists his lip. Orwin's sole purpose is to aggravate and hamstring Hank, courtesy of HendrickHendrick's who seems to take some sick pleasure in sticking it to the cops who were loyal or friends with Nick. Hank grabs most of the tall stack and plops a dozen or so folders in front of Orwin.

"Right here."

%%%%%

It's a long day putting up with Orwin's eagerness, and Hank's never happier than at five O'clock when he's officially rid of him. He drives back to his house in northeast Portland, mouth twisting in disgusted amusement at the tail he spots three cars back.

Work is largely meaningless, much like it was before he was partnered with Nick. Before Nick became a Grimm, but he needs something to fill his days, and he needs the resources available as a cop to try to determine what happened to Nick.

He unlocks his door, and flips on a light, waving pointedly to the car parked across the street, watching him. The occupants don't wave back, and Hank slams the door shut and locks it. He makes his way wearily to the kitchen and pulls out a beer and just stands there, looking around him, the house empty—most always empty—and feeling like a void in the earth.

He's been careful about making new friends. Or even catching up with old ones who appear suddenly. The whole situation with Uri left a bad taste in his mouth, and Nick would be at least relieved to know that Wife Number 5 is nowhere near on the horizon.

Or he would, anyway, if he was here.

Hank sighs again and closes the blinds, and walks to the bedroom and flips on the light, aware that the spies across the street are clocking his every move, and he wonders how long the captain's going to maintain the lookouts. It's going on three months now of absolutely, fucking, NOTHING, and the realization makes Hank throw his beer against the wall.

It shatters with a satisfying smash of glass and liquid and Hank watches the beer drip down the wall and heaves a sigh.

Likely, he's dead.

Even Renard has to realize that.

But like everyone else, he's holding out hope, too.

The ascension, and governorship of the elective body has not been the idyllic dream or cake-walk Renard probably thought it would be, and Hank's mouth twists in grim satisfaction.

Serves the conniving bastard right if it all blew up in his face. The problem was it was going to take everyone in Portland with him.

%%%%%

"Finally!" Monroe grouses when he catches sight of Hank and Wu.

"Sorry, had some last-minute paperwork to finish up." Paperwork that he would have pawned off on Orwin had he been able to find him. But like everything he'd come to expect about Orwin, his new partner was absent when needed and clingy when unwanted.

"How's work?" Rosalee asks.

Hank sighs.

"Crazy. You don't know what Wu and I spent the morning dealing with."

A quintuple homicide, a rare case uniting them, one clearly instigated by a Wesen. Even with Hank's limited experience and knowledge of Wesen, he can't mistake the marks on the body as being left by anything else.

It's the third multiple homicide Hank's been given this week.

It's Tuesday.

"You said you have some news?" he asks them hopefully, watching Rosalee and Monroe glance at each other before Rosalee takes a deep breath. "Did you hear from Trubel?"

Rosalee puffs out the breath, momentarily distracted. "No, I haven't heard anything."

After returning disappointedly to Portland with no information about Nick and the royals, Trubel set off to check some places across the country she'd heard spoken of, either from Nick, Juliette/Eve, or Hank. Hank thought it was a long shot, but he also had to admit, that had he'd been able to get away, he'd be right there beside her looking for clues.

"What's it been? Three weeks?" Wu asks.

"Over five," Monroe corrects and Wu raises his eyebrows.

"Where was she heading to after St. Louis?"

"New York. Nick's from New York," Hank said. "She thought it's possible he might head that way."

"Why'd she go to St. Louis?" Wu asks. "Does Nick have family there?"

"No, but he mentioned one time he lived there, or outside of there, with his aunt, in one of their many moves."

"Does he have any family left in New York?" Wu asks.

"I thought he had an uncle, but I don't know where he lives. Both sets of his grandparents are dead, his father's dead—"

"His mother's definitely dead," Monroe remarked.

"There's not a whole lot of family left, I don't think. Never heard him talk about much, anyway."

"I wonder if he wouldn't get the hell out of the country," Monroe says.

"Not without a passport, and I guarantee you if he tried to cross the border or board a plane, we'd know about it," Wu replies.

"He still has that passport from when we went to Germany," Monroe points out. "He could have used that."

"We know. We've got an alert set up if anyone under that name tries to use it in any way," Hank tells them. "So far, nothing."

"He could have got a new one," Rosalee ventures.

"You guys had fake passports," Hank said, "and it's much easier to use a dead person's information to fake a passport than it is just to create one from nothing. The quality of the document…that's hard to slip past a security checkpoint, especially like an airport. If he's got Adalind and two kids in tow, that's going to be even harder. There's so much security in airports I doubt he'd try to leave the country that way, anyway."

"Do you really think he's on a beach in Mexico, sipping a margarita?"

"Or Canada, enjoying nice cold beer," Hank counters, "but no, I don't think he's in either."

"Where do you think he'd go?" Rosalee asks, and Hank shrugs as Monroe shakes his head.

"New York? Chicago? Miami? Some place you can just blend in with the masses."

"As a Grimm?" Monroe scoffs. "They don't just blend."

"Yes, but being around a lot of people has its advantages. There's a certain amount of anonymity in a large crowd, and most people don't care who you are and why you're there," Hank counters.

"So I gather the reason we're here is not because there's new information on Nick," Wu says, looking at Monroe and Rosalee.

"No, it's not about Nick," Rosalee agrees, looking at her husband.

"Okay," Hank says. "What's on your mind? Is it good?"

Rosalee and Monroe look at each other for another moment, before Rosalee dips her head and Monroe smiles a little.

"Maybe," Rosalee says with a sigh, and Monroe's smile dims.

"Maybe?" he echoes.

"Monroe," she demurs.

"Well, I think so," Monroe says, and it manages to make Rosalee's face brighten a little.

"Good, I could do with a little good news," Wu says. "Speaking of which: did anyone hear again from Joshget a lead on Nick?"

"No, no," Monroe says, expelling a breath he'd just taken, looking apologetically at his wife.

"No, we still haven't heard anything," Rosalee replies.

"Trubel was going to meet up with Eve and swing by that way on her way to New York, I think."

"How did they even know to target him?"

"Who knows? Nick said that Bonaparte was after the Grimm book."

"Yeah, but Josh isn't in it. He's not a Grimm."

"That we know of. Remember Nick says it hits men later than women. Maybe it finally hit," Hank answers.

"I doubt it. I think if he was a Grimm he wouldn't be panicking so much," Monroe says.

"I don't know, do you remember Josh?"

Monroe shrugs, conceding the point.

"Hope he's okay," Hank mutters.

"Me, too." Rosalee says.

"Okay, so if that wasn't it, then what?"

"We wanted to tell you..." Rosalee begins slowly, looking at Monroe to pick up the story.

"That we…are going to have a baby," Monroe finishes, smiling briefly.

"What?" Wu exclaimsbarks, shocked.

"Congratulations," Hank says recovering his surprise after a second and leaning forward to embrace Rosalee, and Rosalee gives him a tremulous smile in thanks.

"Wow," Wu says, looking at them.

"'Wow' is right," Monroe agrees.

"I know, I know. It seems like it couldn't come at worse time," Rosalee adds, and Hank glances between Rosalee and Monroe, noting their solemn faces. "But despite everything going on we're happy," she says, and she almost sounds like she believes it. Hank can't imagine the stress and worry they're under right now, knowing what's going on around them, and that it might affect them—they might be targeted personally for their association with Grimms. Monroe's irritability suddenly makes sense – worry and fear, and anger and helplessness at what's going on around them. Bringing a child into the world at such a chaotic time in history.

What it must be like to contemplate raising a child in a world such as the one their living in now, and his mind flits to Kelly, and Nick.

"I'm very happy for you both," Hank says. "I'll help you anyway I can."

"Yeah, we're here for you, whatever you need," Wu agrees.

"Wish Nick could be here to share in the news," Monroe laments when Hank and Wu shake his hand, and Hank bites his lip and nods.

"He'd be happy for you," Hank says and Monroe nods, looking down at the ground. It's apparent how much the Blutbad misses his friend in that one innocuous glance. How worried he is about Nick. Nick and Monroe are close in a way that Hank and Nick will never be. Both members of a unique world that Hank exists in but will never be a part. for Nick.

"Well, I'm sure we'll hear something soon, right? I mean it's been three months. Nick's probably going to pop up at the station one day."

"Sure," Hank agrees. With the current regime at the station, Nick being there would likely be because he was arrested. He almost hopes for Nick in handcuffs, though, rather than a body bag.


	7. Part Two - Chapter Two

"It's been three months and nothing," Eve says in her strangely emphatic monotone and Trubel frowns beside her. She wipes the blood out of her eyes, an unfortunate consequence of slaying a Schakal with the knife she carries.

"I know," Trubel says, pulling her knife out of the Schakal's neck and wiping the blood off on his shirt, before closing it up and slipping it back in her pocket.

"We should have heard something by now." Trubel nods absently, kneeling down.

"You think he's dead?" Trubel asks after a long moment, searching the pockets of the body in front of her.

Eve stares at the sightless eyes before her on the ground.

"I don't see how he could have survived you severing his jugular."

"No not-" Trubel huffs impatiently, realizing Eve is being purposefully evasive.

"The Schakal, yes. Nick?" Eve says, pausing a moment to contemplate before continuing. "History would say not to count Nick out," and there's an emotional component to the words that Eve can't quite cover up.

Trubel nods again, relieved. She had been thinking it, too, but the truth is the absolute lack of anything on Nick's whereabouts or what might have happened is starting to eat away at her, and she can't help but wonder if Nick met some end as grisly as that of his mother. She wonders if one day she'll, or one of the others, come home to find a box on their doorstep; Nick's head in it. If she should even be so lucky to have closure as to that. She swallows thickly and looks around her.

She doesn't think after Meisner that she can handle losing Nick, too, and for a moment is fleetingly grateful that she can still believe the silence represents hope. She hasn't had much in the way of that, certainly not lately, but Nick has always represented that to her. Hope, comfort, and family.

"Did you get the other one's ID?" she asks Eve, and Eve holds up a wallet before chucking it a thousand yards into the river beyond them.

Eve's doing better at reigning her emotions in, but the topic of Nick tends to unsettle her after too much introspection, and Trubel is glad to change the subject.

Most of what happened between Nick and Eve when she was Juliette the hexenbiest Trubel wasn't around for, but she's been unfortunately present for the surge of memories and corresponding emotions that have come up from the grave.

The anger, self-loathing, and deep, deep regret. It seems Juliette the hexenbiest has finally grown a conscience of sorts, but Trubel's been the only one thus far to have to hear it, and right now, with everything else, she just can't deal with the guilt Eve/Juliette feels over what she did to Nick and the others. Part of the reason she thinks Eve was so eager to accompany her on this fruitless search for Nick across the country was to get away from Monroe and Rosalee. She hurt them deeply, too, with her reckless and vindictive behavior, and the split of personalities has created a divide she's had a hard time mending.

Trubel knows how devastated Nick was when he found his mother. She can remember his howls of agony and despair. How aggrieved he was when, even after everything she'd put him through, he still couldn't be the one to Kill Juliette, and how when he thought Juliette was dead, he grieved over that, too. And she can remember how angry and distant and cold he was when he found out she was alive, but as something he couldn't remotely wrap his head around.

He was already falling in love with Adalind by that time, and Trubel was glad Eve's appearance didn't derail what small bit of contentment he found in his admittedly strange living arrangement.

Of the two Hexenbiests, Trubel's of the opinion that Adalind might be the better one for him right now, and given her history as well, that's like picking Lenin over Hitler, but she doesn't doubt Adalind's feelings for Nick are genuine.

Apparently, Nick's the only one who can't see (or believe, and maybe given the history…) that Adalind's really and truly in love with him, and she hopes that Adalind and their kid are okay, too, but it's just as unsettling to contemplate their fates as it is Nick's.

She doesn't know Adalind very well, only mostly by reputation, and the awkward kindness Adalind demonstrated when Trubel stayed with them; the rest by Nick's interactions with her, but Nick seemed to be happy going home to his son and the hexenbiest who screwed him and got pregnant as a result. She never claimed to understand their simple-yet-complicated relationship, or their complicated-yet-simple relationship, or maybe simply complicated relationship. Now though, it seems like losing Adalind would be losing one of the few in their circle, which would seem to suggest at some point Trubel started grudgingly thinking of her as one of the Scooby gang.

Which is not to say if Adalind had double-crossed Nick in any way she wouldn't be first in line to eviscerate her, Monroe, Rosalee, Hank, or Eve be damned.

But seeing Adalind's response to Trubel's query… _What do you think about Nick?_ _Are you in love with him?_

No, if Adalind took Kelly away from Nick it was because she had no other option.

She hopes the fate of Adalind and Kelly isn't one where they're already in the grave, especially if Nick isn't.

She has no idea how Nick would deal with another devastating blow such as that, not after losing his mom and Juliette. Losing Kelly…and Adalind…

She doesn't know what kind of man would remain, but she doubts Nick would exhibit behaviors very human.

What fucking maudlin thoughts.

"This is getting us nowhere," Trubel says suddenly, and Eve looks at her blankly, raising an eyebrow. Trubel avoids her gaze, not sure if her comment was directed more at the musings of her mind or the task at hand.

"I don't think he's going to be in New York," Trubel says after a moment, daring to voice the thought that has been dancing around in her mind since Seattle. She had thought maybe he'd try to cross the border somewhere, hike into Canada, but the truth is she's not sure where Nick would go. There's a large part of her that still thinks he's hiding out somewhere in or around Portland, but three months…somebody would have to see something.

"Doesn't he have an uncle somewhere?"

"He's down in Florida," Eve says, and part of the reason Trubel suffers through the random bouts of guilt Eve/Juliette has is because buried deep down is all the knowledge of Nick's past, but surprisingly it seems like there's a lot Nick never shared with Juliette. She's not sure what the reasoning behind that was: if it was too painful, Nick honestly didn't remember much of his childhood, or that he was purposefully evasive for other reasons.

"And he's not a Grimm?"

"No, according to what Nick's mother told him the gene didn't pass on to him."

So why would Nick go to Florida when it's very possible that Nick's uncle would have no idea what they were running from. Or maybe, with the way things are in Portland now, maybe he does have an idea.

And maybe someone who's unaware of wesen might be the ideal person and place to run, too.

She doesn't know if Nick's uncle was raised the same way Nick was—with no idea about the truth of their heritage and legacy, but she finds it hard to believe with the small tidbits she's gleaned from Nick and the others about Nick's mother and her upbringing.

There's no hiding Diana, though, so it's looking like leaning on the charity of others, especially Kerhseites, is less and less likely the course of action Nick made.

There's also the very real fact that Nick has had apparently little to no contact with said uncle in almost ten years. Apparently, according to Eve's memories of when she was Juliette, the last time Nick had any contact with his Uncle Walter was when he was twenty-two and had graduated college. Prior to that the only child of either of his sisters, visits with Walter were largely hit or miss.

Given what they knew of Kelly and Marie's child-rearing philosophies, she's not sure if that's because they were also trying to keep a brother not involved in Grimm work safe and free from the life, or if Walter preferred as little contact with those associated with it as possible.

"God, this is so frustrating!" Trubel says, slamming her fist down.

"We need to leave," Eve replies, looking around them at the bodies. Trubel nods and follows Eve as she slips deftly out a broken-out window and follows her around the building and through an alley. They cross three blocks in silence, both of them checking their surroundings carefully before Trubel resumes conversation.

"Where do you think he would go?" she asks Eve, who tilts her head as though she doesn't understand the question, but doesn't break stride. "If you were him, where would you go to hide your son and the woman you care about?"

Eve's silent for a long time.

"Away from everybody."

Trubel nods. It seems counterintuitive then, to be looking in cities.

"I'd go underground," she says. "If I wasn't in the ground."

%%%%%

"What the hell is going on!"

"Hey Josh," Trubel replies wearily. It's been an exhausting ten days, and despite how she sounds, she's glad to see Josh. He looks unkempt, wild blonde curls in disarray, and sleep-deprived himself.

"Get in here," he says, glancing around furtively. He spots Eve standing a ways behind Trubel and gestures frantically as well.

"Juliette! Hurry up," he says and after a moment she complies, stride steady and languid.

"My name is Eve," Eve corrects him when she's inside, and Josh pauses for a split second in confusion, before he resumes relocking the half dozen locks on his door.

"What?" he says, peering out he peephole before he gives his attention back to them.

"Let me handle this," Trubel interrupts, giving Eve a look. Eve tilts her head fractionally in acknowledgement and moves about the space Josh invited them in.

It's an insult to apartments to call what he's living in an apartment.

It's an insult to humankind to say the space is livable at all.

"What's this?" Trubel asks him. "Did you move?"

"What? Oh, yeah, yeah. Those hundjagers trashed my dad's place, I couldn't go back. And then they found the house I was renting and trashed that. I've moved nine times in the last year. My life has been hell!"

"I hope you didn't shell out dough on this place."

"I think I'm going through the change!" Josh confesses worriedly and Eve turns her focus back to Josh.

"The change?" Trubel repeats.

"Yeah, becoming a Grimm like you and Nick."

Trubel takes a step closer. "What makes you say that?"

"Because the whole world is going crazy! I can see what you guys see. What my dad tried to describe to me. I saw some dude with a face like a bat. A bat! And another guy, he had like scaly green skin. And a forked tongue! And there was this woman—oh my god—she had—"

Eve moves in front of Josh and woges, face morphing into ugly rot, tendons and skeleton exposed, and Josh keeps right on ranting, oblivious.

"She had, like gills. Gills!"

"Josh—"

"Oh my god, and man can they pack a punch—"

"Josh."

"I never hurt so bad in my life. How do you do it?"

"You're not a Grimm," Trubel tells him and his mouth snaps shut.

"What?"

"You're not a Grimm," Trubel repeats.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, positive," Trubel says, and Josh looks at Eve for validation. She woges again and he flicks his eyes back to Trubel as Eve gives a shake of her head. She woges a second time – making herself visible to the naked eye.

"Aaaaaaaahhhh!" Josh screams, like a twelve-year-old girl. Trubel rolls her eyes.

"You're not a Grimm."

Eve's face returns to normal and Josh gapes at her before turning to Trubel.

"But, look! She's—she's—she's…one of them! Wesen! I can see all those—those—Wesen!"

"Yeah, I know. Wesen have declared war on the status quo. There's a movement many are supporting where they don't have to hide what they are. Everybody can see them now, if they want them to. They're not hiding."

"Oh, my god."

"Yeah."

"Wow, I mean…wow. Actually kind of surprised to find myself a little bit disappointed," Josh says with a hesitant laugh, brow raising in contemplation.

"Don't be. If you were a Grimm you'd be first on their list to kill. Just as yourself, your probably only second or third."

Josh's blue eyes connect with Trubel's brown ones.

"Oh, thanks. That's reassuring." Josh says, looking at Eve for help. He stares for a beat too long. "Did you change your hair, too?" he asks her distractedly.

"Yes," Eve says blandly.

"It looks nice," he hastens to add, and turns his attention back to Trubel. "There's a war?"

"Yeah, Portland is ground zero," Trubel says, looking around at the trash. "You decorate the place yourself?"

"Sorry, it's a little messy. I got attacked on my way to the dumpster, so now I don't go out unless it's absolutely necessary." Eve and Trubel survey their surroundings.

"I think it's necessary," Eve informs him.

"Hm," Josh says in response. "Oh, my god, if there's a war on, I bet you and Nick must be going crazy. I bet you guys are up to your eyeballs in all this Wesen stuff."

Trubel nods once, before bobbing her head side to side, in a _yes/no/sort of-it's-complicated_.

"One would assume," Eve says.

"Actually," she says, looking at Eve before giving Josh her full attention. "Nick has gone missing," she says after a deep breath and Josh stares at her uncomprehendingly.

"Um, what?" he says, looking again at Eve who stares back with her patented expressionless face and no-nonsense black bob. "He's gone?"

"Yeah," Trubel says. "We don't know where he is."

"Did—did somebody take him?"

"Maybe. We're really not sure what happened."

"Oh, wow." Josh breathes. "How long has he been missing?"

"No one's heard or seen him in almost four months." Josh's eyebrows skyrocket and he opens his mouth a few times, trying to find his words. He catches sight of Eve observing their conversation.

"Oh, Juliette, you must be going crazy," he says, looking at her sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

"Eve," Eve replies.

"Huh?"

"My name is Eve," Eve says and Josh's brows begin a slow slink down into the corner of his eyes.

"Yeah, as you can see, after we left for Pennsylvania, some big things happened," Trubel says to him and Josh's eyes slide from Eve to Trubel as he fumbles for speech.

"Yeaaaaahhh."

"Like Juliette is Eve, for one."

Josh's eyes flick to Eve.

"Ohhh-kay," he says, clearly just going along with the statement and hoping someone will fill him in at a later date.

"Juliette became a hexenbiest," Eve informs him, "as a consequence of helping Nick regain his Grimm powers back."

"What? You can, like, become one of them?" he yelps, and clearly he's thinking of some airborne plague befalling him.

"Apparently. Technically," Trubel hedges, "I guess, since that's pretty much what happened in this case."

"Yes. With the type of spell and ritual that was used, it is possible to become a Hexenbiest, though little information exists on the number of occurrences," Eve says unemotionally.

"I think what happened to you is incredibly rare," Trubel interjects. From everything she understands it's next to impossible.

"You can't just, like, undo it or reverse it or something?" Josh asks.

"No," Eve replies succinctly. "It's permanent."

"Wow," Josh replies, awestruck. He looks at Trubel. "I bet Nick was a little taken aback, huh? Wait, didn't you tell me it was a Hexenbiest who stripped him of his powers?"

"Yes," Trubel says, recollecting they had talked quite a bit on their drive back to Pennsylvania about what had happened to Nick and how it had happened.

"Adalind," Eve says and Josh's eyes brighten in recognition.

"Adalind, yeah, that was her name. God, I hope after everything she's dead."

"She's not," Eve replies in the same clipped manner as before.

"Oh," Josh says. "Do you think she's the one who took Nick?"

"We believe she's with him," Eve says evenly, and Trubel decides to step in with a roll of her eyes.

"Look, it's a long, convoluted story and we'll tell you everything you want to know but first I gotta get something to eat. I haven't eaten since we killed that jagerbar yesterday. Where's some place close that we can get some food?"

%%%%%

"He had a baby with her?" Josh mumbles around a mouthful of food. He's clearly not the only one who hasn't eaten in a while. Eve picks at her food sedately, but unlike the slobs next and across from her she manages to exude some manners appropriate for a public outing. Although, like the apartment, this place barely qualifies as an establishment, but it's dark, kind of sketchy and mostly devoid of people, and Trubel actually kind of likes it. The food isn't bad either, but it's hard to screw up a burger the size of a salad plate and another plate full of fries.

"Yes, a son. Kelly," Trubel says, stuffing another large bite of burger in her mouth.

"Kelly?"

"Named after his mom," Trubel explains.

"And she died?"

"Yeah," Trubel confirms, glancing at Eve, who's _definitely_ picking at her food.

"Did one of those hundjagers come after her like they did me and my dad?"

"Yeah, the royals set a trap for her," Trubel says hesitantly. She's not sure how to broach the subject of what happened with Eve sitting right next to her, with Juliette back in the picture. Any other time or person and she'd just lay it out, but Eve's no longer as in control of her emotions and reactions and recounting her past actions as Juliette while unable to restrain the Juliette within are a tipping point, usually. And depending on the Juliette that shows up, the weepy, regretful one, in particular, she doesn't think she can deal with it right now.

"Wow, I always thought, I mean with all the stories you told me, and what Nick had told you and told me, that his mom was like SuperGrimm badass, or something."

"She was," Trubel says, though she never met her.

"I set her up," Eve breaks in coolly, looking up from her plate to meet Josh's eyes. "I sent her an email and made her think Nick was in trouble and lured her to the house."

Josh stops chewing and stares at her, eyes flicking to Trubel as though Eve might be trying to pull one over him. Trubel gives him a look that she's not, and the bite of food Josh was working on fills one side of his cheek as he tries to speak.

"Wha-why would you do that?"

"I was angry," Eve says matter-of-factly, pushing her plate away, and even so, really, it's more Juliette speaking than Eve. It's difficult both for Trubel and Eve to get used to having these two distinct but linked personalities sharing one body.

When she's like this, Trubel doesn't know what to call her. She's not sure what to feel. With Eve, she's gotten used to the fact that she bears no resemblance to the woman who reluctantly took her into her home when Nick dumped a homeless vagabond wanted for murder into her lap. The same woman who took her under her wing and made her feel welcome when Trubel was still finding her footing with people who were so genuinely kind with no ulterior motive.

To think of her as Juliette is to remember that woman, and she can't reconcile her with the same woman who devastated Nick. Who became so out of control with anger and her newfound power and abilities that Trubel was forced to put two arrows through her or watch her kill Nick when given the opportunity. That even after everything, he couldn't do it because he still loved Juliette so much.

"At Nick?" Josh asks and Eve nods her head once. "Why?"

"For what he did. For what I blamed him for doing to me, making me like this, even though I volunteered to go through the ritual for him. For having this happen to me and not being able to deal with it – him not being able to deal with it - and all the fallout associated with it. Everything I did…to him…Monroe…all of it leading up to his mom, when Adalind…" Eve's mouth twists bitterly, "Finding out Adalind was pregnant with his son – _our_ son – and I was just…so…angry," Juliette/Eve despairs. "Everything we had wanted and dreamed of – a family, a life together—it was gone, and it was all because of what happened to me because of what _she_ did."

Josh gazes at her for a long moment as his hand slowly falls back to his plate, setting his half-eaten burger on top of it. Juliette looks away for a moment.

"After everything she did, he still protected her," Juliette says quietly, and it is definitely Juliette saying it, not Eve. Eve wouldn't give a damn about Adalind and what she did, but Juliette has a hard time staying unaffected.

"You tried to kill her. She was pregnant," Trubel defends, "You know Nick. No matter what had happened or how it happened, it was still his baby. What did you expect him to do when you threatened her?"

Although, when Nick had recounted the whole scene to Trubel where Adalind announced she was having his baby, he had confessed to Trubel that he had seriously thought about letting Adalind reap the consequences she had sown and getting her well-deserved comeuppance from Juliette. Had expressed the anger he had felt for her ruining everything between him and Juliette – that he wasn't against entertaining the thought of dishing out some payback himself.

But, really, given the fact she was pregnant, had just confessed the child was his, that's all he was going to do: entertain an idea. It wasn't like Nick to do such a thing. Nick, though pragmatic, was essentially a good guy. Exerting harm on a pregnant woman wasn't him, even if the pregnant woman was Adalind.

 _She grabbed my hand._ _I felt him._ _I didn't want to—I knew what she was trying to do; play on my emotions—but she grabbed my hand, and—and—I think I wanted to know what it felt like._ _She just placed it on her stomach, and … I felt him kick._ Trubel can still recall the smile that had curled at the ends of Nick's mouth as he remembered. She didn't think he was even aware of it as he was recounting the story. _I don't know if he was trying to say don't leave me alone to be raised by her or what but he was just so…alive._ _Real._ _Mine._

He never doubted her claim that the baby was his.

"I know," Juliette says softly. "I know," she glances at Josh, and averts her eyes. "What I did was awful. There's no excuse for it," she admits. "I would never believe that I could do that to him. To her. To their baby. I'm grateful for what you did," she says, looking at Trubel and a piece of food lodges in Trubel's throat before she pushes it down. "It was the only way. It was the only way to get me to listen. To see there could be another way."

"What did you do?" Josh asks her.

"Killed her," Trubel says flatly, and Josh's eyes widen again. "Or at least made it look like I did. She was trying to kill Nick, and the Wall was interested in getting a hold of her, so they sent me to do the job."

"The Wall?"

"Yeah. Hadrian's Wall."

"It saved me," Juliette says. "It gave me the time and the tools I needed to adjust to what I was—am—now. I could become someone else, now that I was never going to be the same old Juliette again. That I could put the misery and anger to good purpose, instead of ruining the lives of those around me." She spends a few minutes explaining what the Wall did, how she was resurrected and reborn.

"Eve," Josh says.

"Eve," she confirms.

"So, did Nick think you were dead?"

"Yeah," Trubel says, grabbing a fry and bathing it in her pool of ketchup on the side of the plate.

"Wow. Does he know you're alive?" he asks Eve, and Trubel answers again.

"Yeah, he got a bit of a rude awakening."

So did all of them, really. Trubel had only heard rumors about what the Wall was trying to do, and she hadn't laid eyes on Juliette since the day she shot her with Nick's crossbow.

"How did he take that?"

"About how you'd expect," Trubel says as she flicks her eyes to Eve—and Trubel can see the Eve persona sliding back into place, trying to regain her equilibrium. Cool. Distant. It's like an ill-fitting sweater, washed and dried and shrunken and misshapen on her; Eve just can't make it work like it did anymore.

"So now, thanks to all your training, you don't feel anything? No emotions? You have no opinion on what happened? No regrets."

"I wouldn't say that," Eve says. "I remember everything that happened, and I know my part in what happened caused irreparable pain to people I had claimed to love and called friends, but there's no going back from what was. I accept that things can no longer be as they were when I was just Juliette. It used to be something I could keep under control, but something happened and now—" and Eve breaks off, emotion surging to the forefront. Josh looks at her in concern.

"What happened?"

Trubel glances up and looks covertly around them. They're still off by themselves, the closest patrons to them seated six tables away, but she shakes her head at Josh, and Eve manages to regain control of her emotions. Eve meets Trubel's eyes and looks back at Josh.

"A story for another time," Eve tells him.

Josh's eyebrows dart up, but he shrugs as he takes another bite of sandwich.

"Hard to believe something might top that," he mutters.

%%%%%

"So, what does he look like?"

"Who?"

"Kelly. Nick's son? I've seen a picture of one in those books in Nick's trailer, of a Hexenbiest. Isn't his son like a hexenbiest, too?"

"Zauberbiest. What the male is called," Trubel says at his look. "half Zauberbiest, really. And he looks like a baby. What do you think he looks like?"

"I don't know. Do Wesen and people—"

"Kehrseites," Trubel supplies.

"Do Wesen and Kehrseites…I mean, do they usually—I mean is it normal for them to be together? I mean is it even possible?"

"Yeah, it's possible," Trubel says. "It's not unheard of, anyway, but Wesen usually partner with other Wesen."

"Do Wesen and Grimms usually partner together like that?"

"No, I don't think so," Trubel admits. "We haven't found any record of it, anyway, although Nick mentioned his aunt had been involved with a Steinadler, but it didn't work out."

"Go figure. So, a Grimm and a Hexenbiest having a child…that's pretty unusual."

"Yeah, I guess. Fraternizing is generally frowned upon by both sides. I don't think throughout history that relationships were encouraged between Grimms and Wesen. We haven't found anything in the Grimm books about a hybrid."

Though she suspects that's probably because if any had existed they had been wiped out, along with the Grimm that fathered (or mothered) such an abomination.

"Hybrid," Josh murmurs, shaking his head.

"He looks like Nick, actually, quite a bit," Trubel says after a moment, uncomfortable with thinking of Nick's son in such detached, clinical terms. Really, for a child who's of mixed heritage such as he is, Kelly's really pretty cute, if you tend to think of babies that way.

Which Trubel doesn't.

Usually.

But for Nick's kid, she can make an exception she reasons, and it's not like either Adalind or Nick are unattractive people.

She remembers holding him, how surprising how heavy and warm he was for someone so small. Chubby, dimpled hands, and cheeks when he smiled, how she could spot physical similarities in both parents in Kelly. How Nick was around him – goofy and gentle, Adalind too. Loving, doting, and proud parents. How it all worked, inexplicably, when _everything_ pointed to it doing the exact opposite.

She sniffles, suddenly overwhelmed by tears, and she turns away quickly.

"You okay?" Josh asks with soft concern and she nods, but doesn't look at him. She's glad they're alone. Eve's doing a perimeter check while Trubel helps Josh pack up a few things. He's coming with them, to New York and Florida - which now seems so ridiculous, that Nick might be hiding out there, catching a tan with Adalind and building sandcastles on the beach with his son while the world explodes around them - and then they'll all head back to Portland.

She hopes Kelly is okay. He's just a baby, she's not sure what the uprising would want with him, other than to use him as leverage with Nick, but she feels if someone still had Kelly, and Nick was still all right, that they would be helping him get his son back like before, not wondering whether either one of them was alive.

"Yeah, fine," Trubel says dismissively.

"You said Nick loves her?" he asks after a moment.

"Yeah," Trubel says quietly.

"After everything she did?"

"He did stuff, too," Trubel points out, not sure why she's defending Adalind. Frankly they've both done things to the other that defies all reason that they should be so intimately involved at present.

"Does she really love him?" Josh asks. "Maybe this was all some sort of long con or a spell or something to trick him and turn him over to the royals or something."

"Yeah," Trubel says. "She does. It's not." She meets Josh's eyes and after a moment he nods in acceptance. "It's…incomprehensible, I know, but she really does love him, and even after everything, yeah, I think he loves her. You should have seen him. He was so upset—not just that he lost Kelly, but that he lost her. He kept saying she left him. She left _him._ Not just that she left."

It's quiet for a long moment as Josh continues to collect the few things he's elected to bring with him.

"Have you thought about the fact that what may have happened to Nick is a little more serious than being taken?" Josh ventures and Trubel frowns. She knows what he's getting at.

Has she considered that this might all be in vain? That Nick could be—is—dead. Adalind, too. Kelly? Who knows. Perhaps Black Claw has realized the advantage they'll have in having a Hexenbiest/Grimm hybrid who has been raised in their influence since infancy.

That she might one day, if she lives that long herself, to have to kill Nick's son, the child she held in her arms, the same way she shot two arrows through Juliette.


	8. Part Two - Chapter Three

AN: One of our fellow Grimmsters has created the first ever Grimm fanfiction awards. You can go to grimmfictionawards .com, and submit your choices for various categories from now through March 30th. Take a moment and recognize the many talented writers in this fandom who contribute to our enjoyment with a nomination.

AN 2: thank you, especially to the readers like Arianne, who leave comments I can't respond to. Love them, keep them coming.

%%%%

Eve pauses just inside the doorway of Josh's place, listening to Trubel and Josh talking in the other room.

 _"Even after everything, I think he loves her. You should have seen him. He was so upset."_

Another voice pipes up from memory.

 _"That's easy for you to say, he's not your son."_

She shakes her head furiously, trying to get the voices to stop.

" _You set me up."_

" _Even after everything, I think he loves her."_

 _'What did you expect him to do? You threatened his son."_

 _"He was so upset—not just that he lost Kelly but that he lost her."_

She reminds herself that it's not betrayal. Not anymore. Not when she did so much worse when she betrayed Nick by selling his mother out to the royals, but she can't help the sensation that wells up that he's fallen in love with the enemy.

Most days she's able to keep it out of her head. That, as Juliette, she threatened Nick, she threatened Monroe and Rosalee, and Nick's baby when Adalind was pregnant. That she is responsible for leading his mother into the trap the royals set.

Just as she's also aware that Adalind tried to kill his aunt, repeatedly. That she put Juliette into a coma and nearly killed her. That she continuously did damage to Nick and their relationship until there was nothing left and, yet, Nick finds her attractive.

Loveable.

After everything she's done, he loves her.

It's only slightly harder to swallow that she's also responsible, or Juliette, at least, for driving Nick to Adalind's arms. Threatening his unborn child—Trubel was right. Juliette should have realized that even though it was Adalind, Nick was noble enough not to allow an unborn child to be caught in the crosshairs, even one of Adalind's. Especially one of his.

At one time in her life, Juliette herself had put aside her own misgivings and intense dislike for the mother and cared for Diana as a newborn baby—it was a baby after all, and it was clear Adalind barely had a clue what she was doing—but she could only blame the Hexenbiest for taking all reasoning away and making it not matter that an unborn child would suffer whatever consequence Adalind did at Juliette's hand.

She's also aware that Nick's not immune from romanticizing the situation he's in, too. Living in close quarters with the mother of his child. Being the provider and protector. The pull of being a unit, a _family_ , of wanting to love the person you share a child with, and provide that child with every means of stability and love and safety.

How much family means to him, roots, for someone who for so long had so little, and then, briefly, none, before his son was born and both the child and Adalind gave him a focus and a reason not to descend further into grief and madness.

She's thankful for that. After hurting Nick so much—she's heard what the royals did to him, how he found out about his mother—she's glad that he could put some of the hurt and anger aside and move on in his life.

He had always wanted children one day. Juliette's memories float to the surface, the almost nervous expression on his face when she had asked him about it. The way she teased him when it was clear he thought she meant having children right then, right away. The way he had chuckled gamely and the way that he had looked at her when he smiled and admitted, _"Someday, yes. I would like to have children. Maybe two or three or four."_

" _Four!"_

 _"Yeah, I've always kind of wanted a big family."_

 _"Maybe start with one and see how that goes._ "

He had grinned again and she had dropped the subject, but she realizes if he's alive and has Diana with them, he's halfway to his dream.

She feels like it's unlikely that she'll ever realize hers now. She would have been happy with one. A piece of him, and she knows Nick would have been an amazing father. She can see, even despite the difficulties he faces now, he's devoted to his son.

All that was a long time ago. A different person ago, and Juliette's swell of memories are unwelcome, but she realizes whatever he did to her broke something loose and now she can't get it to fit back in tight enough to put the lid on it. More and more keeps leaking out and she, and everyone else around her, are being forced to have to deal with.

Acknowledge what she did.

All over again, except it seems like everyone else, they were all too eager to let Juliette and all her wretched mistakes be buried in the ground and accept the new person in her place: Eve.

Eve doesn't dredge up awful memories of a supposed friend who has done dreadful things.

She acknowledges she rarely allows herself to think of the child by name – Kelly. He's almost always _Nick's son, the child, baby, infant_ , whatever other impersonal nouns or pronouns she can apply.

 _That's easy for you to say. He's not your son._

Had she not seen it with her own eyes she wouldn't doubt Josh's suggestion that maybe Adalind was pulling one over Nick, but deep in her gut, as much as the part of her that is still Juliette, she knows Adalind's not faking her feelings for Nick. Even worse is the knowledge that Nick genuinely feels the same way.

Juliette, if she was still running the show, would feel angry, that Adalind could deceive him for so long when her powers were back, knowing that Juliette had done the same, destroying years of trust built along the way, knowing how Nick felt not being the first to know. That Adalind could do something like take his son and run, that she could be meeting with Renard behind his back and he would still love her. That he would _forgive_ her. That he would understand.

Eve, though, wouldn't and shouldn't care. Feeling angry isn't going to change anything between her and Nick anyway. What Juliette did cannot be forgiven by Nick. It shouldn't be forgiven.

There's a part of her that respects that decision, even as another part of her aches over it.

There is no bond such as a child between them to provide him with a strong reason to get over his anger and mistrust after she was responsible for taking his mother away.

Kelly.

Kelly. _Kelly. Kelly. Kelly._

She forces herself to say it. Acknowledge what she's done. Juliette's more at play here now than ever and she feels so unsettled, not sure what she should do with these two distinct personalities vying for control. She feels like a split person, and she's trying to keep it—them—together until she can figure out what she needs to do about it. She knows Trubel is trying her best, but she can tell there's times when she doesn't want to deal with it. She's been more patient and loyal to Eve, or perhaps it's Juliette, than either probably deserve, so she tries to keep the upsets to a minimum.

She shakes her head again, and breathes through the noise in her head. She focuses instead on the conversation in the next room, needing something to distract her, anything—even conjecture on what may have happened to Nick.

Like Josh and Trubel, she's wondered if Nick hasn't met some fate worse than being captured by the enemy, though a Grimm in Black Claw's hands, even the remnants that remain, is potentially catastrophic.

So, the absolute deafening silence that's been present on that front seems to indicate that the blow they struck, that Nick struck, to the organization was a death knell. And if someone within it had killed Nick—she feels as though they would have heard about it. A Grimm as powerful and notorious as Nick made himself in such a short time—someone would be claiming responsibility. His head would have shown up in a box somewhere—Hank's desk, Monroe's doorstep—something.

It's the quiet that's so confounding.

She meant what she said to Trubel: History would say not to count Nick out, but It's been a long time since Monroe got that phone call, and the nothingness in between is eroding everyone's confidence, even hers.

They're not going to find him in Florida, she knows. New York. Anywhere in between. The secret of what happened to Nick, to his son, Adalind and Diana, lies somewhere in Portland, not the outreaches far beyond.

%%%%%

"You okay?"

Eve—Juliette, she's in charge now—shakes her head. She can't stand this split of personality. She has no idea who she is anymore. Is she Eve, is she Juliette, is she someone else. She truly feels that Juliette has died, and she's more than happy to leave all the memories, good and bad, dead in the ground with her. Eve was certainly easier, when she could control the emotions better. She feels so lost now, and she _hates_ that feeling.

She just wants to move on in her life. She's aware most of her relationships are lost that she had as Juliette. Nick, of course. Likely Rosalee and Monroe, too. They might be able to be cordial, friendly even, but she doubts they'll ever be as close as they were before Juliette did all those awful things. Ditto for Hank and Wu, though she knew of him, they were never particularly close. Wu found out about Wesen shortly before Juliette became one.

She wonders what peace will fill like?

Death?

Finding out what happened to Nick? Finding Nick? Defeating Renard?

Leaving Portland?

Is there such thing as peace for someone like her, after what she's done?

In some ways, Adalind, much as she feels conflicted about her, represents hope. She was hardly a delight, and she's found happiness and fulfillment in her life.

Forgiveness.

Perhaps, there's hope there for the same for her.

"You want to stop?"

Juliette shakes her head again, and Trubel frowns.

"Maybe we should stop. We've been up for hours," Trubel says, looking at Josh. Josh looks beat, and though it would be easy to stop just for him, stopping seems like something Juliette would do. Eve wouldn't stop. Eve would keep pushing on, and that's what she wants to do, here, too, even though her body feels like it's on the verge of collapse.

It's not quite right, not since Nick used whatever on her to heal her, and she wishes she knew more about it, what it was, where it came from. She's gotten as much information as she could from Trubel and Monroe and Rosalee about this mysterious piece of wood, but no one knows where it is.

They've searched the loft, the tunnels, too, but all they can figure is Nick must have had it on him.

Which is terrifying, because Nick's gone and so is this stick. Is the stick in the hands of the enemy?

Which enemy?

Or is the stick lost somewhere, tossed out a window like Nick's and Adalind's phones, of discarded because whoever took Nick had no idea what it was, or what it could do, and assumed it was worthless. Did Nick hide it somewhere else beyond the tunnels?

She feels weird. Where the stick healed her. Inside. Something's missing, or off-kilter. Her powers seemed to be diminished, too, though she hasn't said anything else to the others. She thinks Trubel knows she's operating at half capacity. Fortunately, the only wesen they've encountered have run-of-the-mill, nothing Eve, or even Juliette, couldn't handle.

No Bonapartes, or Manticores, or something even worse.

She's thankful and annoyed.

Something troublesome would at least take her mind off of what's going on with her, with Nick, and the secrecy surrounding Monroe and Rosalee and the others. Would force her to re-hone her skills as Eve, perhaps regain some strength, force Juliette back down behind the barriers she erected.

Something troublesome would likely increases the chances of getting the best of her permanently, especially when she's having a harder time calling on some of her powers.

Something troublesome might ultimately bring her the peace she's seeking.

Still, to go out now is to leave so much undone. Not the least of which is everything with Nick, and what happened to him, but also the opportunity to right the wrongs.

To make amends for everything that Juliette did. To find out if that's even, remotely, possible.

"I haven't slept in weeks," Josh puts in. "I could curl up right now with a grizzly bear, or a, or a, jagerbar," he adds.

"The only reason you'd be curling up, is because he disemboweled you," Trubel says to him and Josh's eyes widen is disgust.

"Seriously, unless you want to carry me the rest of the way to New York, we should find someplace to rest," he says, undaunted.

Juliette manages to shrug nonchalantly when Trubel glances at her for her opinion.

"Fine," Trubel relents. "We'll get a couple of rooms."

"I don't have any money," Josh reminds her, and Trubel's head lolls to the side as she heaves a sigh. "Fine, we'll get _a_ room. I'm not sharing a bed with you," Trubel tells him.

'Okay," he says, confused by the comment.

%%%%%

Josh is raiding the vending and ice machines, armed with the ice bucket, a roll of quarters, and a couple dozen requests between the three of them, most from Trubel and Josh, and Eve has a few quiet moments alone with Trubel.

"I'm going to check in with Hank and Wu and see what's going on," Trubel says, holding up the burner phone she bought a few days ago.

Apparently, she has a few quiet moments alone by herself.

"Good idea," Eve remarks. "I'll go ahead and take a shower first."

"Okay. Josh should be back with the food by the time you get out."

She's not hungry so she really doesn't care if Josh comes back with five pounds of Doritos. She just nods and makes her way to the bathroom. She's hears Trubel's voice a moment later, and she locks the door quietly and turns the shower on.

She stares in the mirror for a long moment, trying to determine who stares back at her. Juliette? Eve? She hates the look in her eyes, hates the way she feels staring at that person so diametrically familiar and unfamiliar.

She wets a washcloth and blots at her face with some water, trying to wash away what it is she sees there that disturbs her so. She bites her lip and looks again. It's still there, of course, whatever it is, and it's not going to go away until she can determine what it is. She turns slowly, lowering the toilet lid and takes a seat, staring at the tiled wall ahead of her blankly. The bathroom fills with steam, and Juliette looks at the tub and the water beating against the tub floor and edges. She stares for a long time before she finally summons the energy to slide under the spray.

"I got you a Mr. Goodbar," Josh says to her the second she opens the bathroom door. A waft of steam follows her out, and Eve nods in response, going about pulling her damp hair back in a, tight, no-nonsense pony tail.

"Any news from Hank?" she asks Trubel, who's sitting on the bed across from Josh, with a pile of junk food and empty wrappers surrounding her, and what looks like a cup of ramen noodles on the nightstand in between.

"Yeah, Rosalee's pregnant."

Josh, stops pouring a package of M&Ms in his mouth and takes a moment to chew.

"What?" Juliette says, taken by surprise, and it's still Juliette running the show, because she feels a surge of emotions at Trubel's statement.

"Rosalee's pregnant," Trubel says again and Juliette manages to find her footing, summon a half-smile and say all the right things.

"That's great," she says. Although, really, it's terrible, everything that's going on in Portland and their lives. She can't imagine trying to raise a child, keep him, or her, safe in the political mess they're living in now. She pulls her mind away from Nick's son.

"Timing sucks," Josh says, around a wad of half masticated M&Ms.

"Yeah, no doubt," Trubel agrees.

"Rosalee doing okay with the baby?"

"Yeah, I guess she's just past the first trimester, so everything so far is good, considering."

"Good."

Her mind swirls with the news.

She's happy for her friend. Her former friend. Actually, she's not sure where she stands now with Rosalee. Perhaps allies or frenemies might as well sum up the extent of their current relationship, but she's glad that Rosalee and Monroe are able to start focusing on their own lives. So much of Nick's has forced them to put their own considerations aside as they've gotten sucked into helping him with one wesen issue or another. It seems as though their life has been put on hold since they finally married, rushing to help Nick find a way to reverse the spell where he lost his Grimm, helping Nick try to deal with the consequences of that reversal, Black Claw, helping out with Kelly, and Adalind, and everything else they do.

If there's one positive to be had with Nick gone, it's that everyone's had more time to consider themselves.

With Renard breathing down their necks, everyone's been more self-aware of what they do. Or don't do. Or think about doing.

She can imagine Rosalee's terrified. She wonders if their talents would be better served in Portland and protecting Monroe and Rosalee rather than searching the countryside for places Nick might have sought refuge.

"I can't imagine bringing a kid into this," Josh says, waving his hand around, and Trubel selects a perfectly shaped Dorito and pops it in her mouth, nodding.

"Trying to keep them safe, I'd go crazy. Surprised Nick isn't crazy."

"I think Kelly was the only reason he stayed sane," Trubel says, and Juliette turns away. "Sort of just had to focus on what was important, you know. Kept him from going off the deep end, especially in the beginning."

Juliette catches sight of Trubel's eyes darting towards her back in the mirror and looks down, but not before she meets her gaze.

She doesn't doubt that his son is the reason Nick wasn't in a jail cell, or a mental hospital, after his mother died. Trying to figure out how to be a responsible father and raise a child with a woman you previously loathed undeniably had to occupy a good portion of his time.

"And he kind of went a little crazy at the end, when Renard had Kelly and Adalind."

"Hmph," Josh says, shaking his head, and shoving another mouthful of food into his mouth. "If I were Rosalee and Monroe I think I'd move to Mexico or something."

"There are wesen everywhere. What's moving going to solve?"

"Well, I'd at least get the hell out of Portland."

%%%%%

Despite a mostly silent agreement that the trip is a complete waste of time, they all still make the pilgrimage to New York. She thinks it's a way for Trubel to feel close to Nick, to retrace his ancestry, only back a generation or two, but to learn where he came from.

It makes Juliette feel closer. She can recall little about Nick's life growing up in New York—he didn't speak of his childhood often, even less of the years after his parents' death spent roaming the country with his aunt—but what she remembers him telling her, it seemed he had a normal, happy childhood when both his parents were alive. Oblivious to the alternate world his mother and aunt were steeped in, and given how much has bled into Nick's life and her world back when he was still trying to hide it, in such a short amount of time, it's no small wonder that his mother—and aunt—could keep that hidden from him for so long.

He's the only child of a Grimm and a Kehrseite, born when his mother was still fairly young, early twenties. She remembers Nick talking about how his father and he loved baseball, and Nick played T-ball, and little league all through his youth, but only sporadically in junior high and high school, until he no longer played. Playing ball reminded him too much of his dad, and the memory of the enjoyment spent together hurt too much to continue.

Plus, moving all the time as a teenager didn't help. There were times he moved multiple times in a school year, and though Nick never said much about always being the new kid in school, he admitted at times he found it lonely and aggravating to form friendships only to have to leave them behind in a few months' time and start all over again.

He loved his aunt though, and by all accounts and what little Juliette personally witnessed while she was alive, he was beloved by his aunt as well. She treated him like he was her own, and never a burden she had to bear to raise. His mother and aunt were very close, but the brother, younger, older, she wasn't sure, was rarely mentioned, and given the information she had that he never developed the Grimm gene, maybe that was by design.

Perhaps the uncle had no desire to be involved in any of it. Perhaps he wasn't even aware of it either, but that seems unlikely. She remembers Nick telling her of a story his mother had told him, how his grandfather had thrown his mother in the mix as soon as she started transitioning.

His mother had been quite young, so given that statement, it doesn't sound like Nick's grandfather was the kind to treat his children and their situation with kid gloves.

Really, she's surprised Nick wasn't sent to live with the uncle, but given the circumstances of his father's death, maybe it was wiser to keep him with his aunt who could perceive a wesen threat on Nick should one happen.

"You said he was born in Rhinebeck?" Trubel interrupts her thoughts.

"It was where he was living when his parents died," Eve corrects. "He was born in upstate New York, and then his family moved to Rhinebeck a few years later."

His birth certificate doesn't list Rhinebeck, it lists a small town in northern New York state, and she thinks that's near where his grandfather and aunt and mother were from. She doesn't know how his parents met, or what brought them to Rhinebeck, whether it was his father's job, or even his mother's secret career, or something else. Rhinebeck was a couple hours outside of New York City. Nick had mentioned he and his dad had ridden the train into New York City to see the Mets play several times throughout his childhood, though he didn't mention much about the city otherwise, leaving Juliette to believe despite its proximity, they didn't usually frequent the city much.

"Were his grandparents alive while he was growing up?" Josh asks.

Eve shakes her head. "No, they passed away while he was still very young." Perhaps necessitating the move downstate, she thinks.

"I don't know anything about my grandparents," Josh offers, reminding Eve that somehow, defying all odds and logic, Josh's own father managed to keep his identity as a Grimm secret from his son for decades. "Dad never said anything about his father, except that he was a ruthless bastard." Josh pauses. "Guess, that kind of explains a lot, knowing now what our family does. What my dad did, anyway."

"Well, see, you know something," Trubel says with a half-smile.

Hours later they stand on the sidewalk in front of an unremarkable two story home, with white siding and black shutters, the last known address of one Reed and Kelly Burkhardt, and son.

Eve looks up, wondering which room was Nick's. If anything remains in the home that was proof he lived there—marks on the wall showing his growth over the years, initials carved in somewhere, but she doubts it. It's been twenty-plus years, and according to county records the home has changed hands six times in that time frame.

Apparently, a young couple now inhabit the place, with a young daughter and another one on the way.

"So, what do we do? Do we just knock on the door?" Josh asks when no one moves.

It's ridiculous, Eve thinks again. They're not going to find anything, they don't even know what it is they're looking for. Do they honestly think they'll find Nick and his son and Adalind and Diana living out of a secret room in the basement, or something?

She's also skeptical of finding any information that may remain from when Nick's mother and father inhabited the place, pointing them in the direction where Nick and co went when he disappeared from Portland.

The longer they're here the more unlikely it seems that they would come this far. She doubts Nick would return to anyplace that he's lived before. Too easy to track those places down, though easy might be generous. She's not sure beyond herself and Hank how many people know about Nick's background growing up as a child and teenager. Most know his parents are deceased, that he was orphaned quite young, and of course, his aunt Marie who raised him, and who was involved in a few violent altercations when she came to Portland before she died, too. But where he lived, or visited, is largely a mystery, even to Juliette, with large gaps and missing places in-between the ones he has mentioned.

His last known location prior to moving to Portland, and Oregon, was someplace in California, near Sacramento. He had taken some courses at a community college there before transferring to Oregon state, and he credits his aunt with pressuring him to get an education.

Actually, he mentioned to her that his aunt flat out told him he was going to college or else.

The memory of and the way Nick shared that little tidbit almost makes her smile, recollecting his rueful grin, and she feels a numbness in her gut that if they don't find him they're out of options and have to start facing up to other, less pleasant explanations for why no one can find any trace of Nick.

It still largely points to the royals as culprits. All they were really interested in was Diana. They'd have no use for Adalind, and probably hold a grudge for her disloyalty. Nick, it's possible they would still need him, but with Diana in their possession, maybe not. Maybe they determined that he, too, was more trouble than he was worth and killed him.

"Are we going to knock?"

"And say what?" Trubel snorts. " _Hey our friend grew up here over two decades ago and we'd like to take a look around and make sure he and his whole family aren't hiding in one of your closets?_ "

"He's not here," Eve says, but she knows they're all aware of that. "We're not going to find anything," she also adds, unnecessarily.

"I know."

"So…what are doing?" Josh asks them, and Eve and Trubel both stare at the house, trying to divine an answer, a reason.

"Delaying the inevitable," Eve says, and Trubel's mouth twists, but she's nods, eyes watering slightly as she acknowledges the truth.

"It's time to go home to Portland," Trubel says. "We've been gone long enough."

It's not the only truth that needs to be acknowledged. It's time Eve figures out just who she wants to be—who she can be. Who the people left in her life are willing to accept. If there are any left.

If she can even accept herself.

She can't keep living in this hellish limbo, wondering who's going to surface and when given a situation, and she needs to dig deep and find out what's going on with her now because of her exposure to Nick's magical wand. She needs to find out about that wand, and there's no way she can really focus on either hopscotching the Nick Burkhardt family history trail.

Trubel takes another look at the house before turning and leading the way back down the sidewalk and to the corner where they parked their car. Josh follows after a moment, exchanging a look with Eve.

Eve—Juliette, she tells herself- lingers, staring at the house, at the secrets it probably held, locked or lost within with so many years gone now.

She thinks about Nick and everything that transpired during the years when they lived in their own house. A beautiful Victorian Nick had purchased with the hopes of enticing her to move in with him. She thinks about all her memories of that place. All the terrifying, the bad, and the mundane and the good. She tells herself it's a step to acknowledge the good that happened, especially now, after everything, even though she mostly feels disconnected now over that life before now. Somehow, it all got so destroyed, whether it was Juliette as Hexenbiest, Adalind as herself, or even Nick that allowed to happen.

The next search for answers is going to have to come from within.

%%%%%


	9. Part Two - Chapter Four

AN 1: OMG, I am quivering with equal parts anguish, fear, and hope that our favorite show is almost over and what might happen to everyone. I can't believe this is the end for Grimm. I'm hoping whatever happens doesn't devastate me (or the muse - and yes I saw last week's.)

AN 2: Some of you have been waiting for this part. One more from the scoobies after this and then we'll check back in with our favorite couple for a bit. A big thank you to everyone for your continued feedback. I may need it after Friday.

%%%%

"You're sure they didn't find anything," he presses, and Sarah, the pretty blonde who's been appointed as his assistant, shakes her head.

"According to the reports they didn't even go inside," She says, and Sean leans back slightly in his chair. "Also, Callahan and Wexler have called again." Sean looks up at this, annoyance flitting across his face. "They still want a meeting."

"Tell them it's going to have to wait. I'm very busy," he says and Sarah nods sympathetically in agreement.

"Of course. Anything else?"

"No, that will be all," Sean says, waving his hand. "Make sure I'm not disturbed," he adds and Sarah smiles again and pulls the door to his office closed behind her. He leans all the way back in his chair and surveys his office, mulling over the information she gave him.

The office of the mayor of Portland, by all appearances, is a grandiose place. Deep, heavy oak furniture and bold, commanding reds on the wall. Something his father would approve of, and though it's reflective of his new stature in the community, Sean hates it. On his desk is a placard with his name and title on it, centered precisely in the middle of his desk. To the left a phone and to the right a computer. In between that, someone took it upon themselves to post a picture of Diana, Adalind, and Nick's son Kelly, taken the night it was announced he'd won the election. Likely placed there by the conscientious and sycophantic Sarah, who naively believes in the lie perpetrated by Black Claw and Bonaparte, that the new mayor is a strident family man. In it is a stiff and unhappy looking Adalind, fake smile obvious to Sean, a carefully swaddled and oblivious infant Kelly held close to her, as though she was attempting to shield him from this awful experience, and an excited and happy Diana.

His eyes linger on his daughter and he wonders not for the first time where she's at and what she's doing.

So far, all his efforts to turn up Nick, or Adalind and Diana, have yielded nothing. There can't be too many places that they can hide, particularly with someone as emotionally volatile as his daughter.

He wonders if Nick realizes he's bitten off more than he can chew by taking his daughter with them, but then again, doubtful he had much choice in the matter with Adalind. She wasn't going anywhere without her, and she wouldn't give up her son either, so unless he was able to somehow sneak Kelly away from his mother, Nick's only options were to take all three of them with him.

What a fun family getaway that must be.

It's surprising, though he long suspected there was something going on between them, that Nick allowed Adalind to come with him. Of course, he figured Nick would be focused on getting Kelly back, but he also figured in the grand scheme of things, that could mean give or take Adalind—and by extension her daughter. He knows of the two, Adalind would be more likely to romanticize the situation they were in, her gratitude for Nick bearing the responsibility of caring for his son and his son's whore mother, but shockingly, Nick seems to have developed feelings of his own for the woman who decimated his whole life.

It's stunning to know that Nick seems to include his former hexenbiest enemy now under his list of "loved ones." Had Sean realized that sooner, he would have better used it as leverage to manipulate Nick.

Bonaparte pushed too hard. He drew a line in the sand by manipulating Adalind into leaving Nick and taking Kelly, though Sean knows after what happened with Diana it's ridiculous to expect she would ever leave her son behind, either.

He didn't realize the extent that both Nick and Adalind had developed feelings for one another, though he supposes he should have expected that, too. They were living together, after all, under the pretense of trying to provide a loving and stable environment ( _between those two_ , Sean thinks, shaking his head a little) to raise their son. Adalind was dependent on Nick—without powers, means, and protection for a long time, and thus no job, no money, or a place to live. And no idea how to take care of an infant.

He knew better than anyone how seductive and charming Adalind could be, if she put her mind to it.

He just thought, after everything that happened between them, that Nick of all people would be more resilient to her charms.

That night in his office, after Nick had come home to his loft and found Adalind and his son had deserted him, he'd been as angry and resentful as Sean had ever seen him.

And the fact he didn't deny it when Sean took a jab at Nick's and Adalind's relationship. He snorts derisively.

He wonders if Nick fancies himself in love with her.

It's hard to even know what's more astonishing: that Adalind seems to have fallen hard for Nick. What her mother would do to her if she knew her daughter had developed feelings for a Grimm. Had had a _child_ with a Grimm. Adalind would weep in gratitude if her mother only threw her out of the house.

Adalind had always been an incredible actress, but either she played the role so well that she got tripped up on her own feelings or she was genuinely in-love with Nick.

The Grimm.

The Grimm who stole her daughter away from her.

The Grimm who stole her powers.

The Grimm who devastated her twice, and yet won her heart and her loyalty, as evidenced by her stubborn refusal to cooperate with Bonaparte and the Uprising's agenda.

He mulls on the last few months, the days leading up to Nick and Adalind's disappearance.

Though he wasn't overly thrilled with being paired with Adalind for the convenience of it, he had to admit they made quite the political family. Or they would have, had Adalind participated with the ruse instead of acting like what they were asking was beyond her capabilities to support.

Despite Adalind's and Sean's history—or maybe because of it—she had no interest in being first lady of Portland. No designs to make the position a stepping point into her own resurgence of influence and power.

No desire, even, to entertain the idea, or rekindle a romance with him.

Not that he was overly keen on doing the same. Just that if they were going to be forced to be together due to Black Claw's plan, then he might as well make the best of it, and Adalind could certainly make it worth his while. The disgust she displayed when he suggested it was a little bit insulting, all things considered.

She's changed a lot in a few short years. Far from the bewitching young woman—girl, really—he met when he sought out the help of a hexenbiest in Portland on the recommendation of his mother. Catherine, recognizing an opportunity, had presented her daughter to him instead, and he had to admit he had been intrigued. Adalind, like her mother, was clever, cunning, sexy and fun.

And, unlike her mother, unfortunately, naïve.

So long ago, she had believed herself in love with Sean, and more importantly, believed Sean to be in love with her. There had been times in their sordid history, he could admit, that Sean had been so taken with her he had almost believed the same.

She could be very charming and charismatic and he still wonders if somehow Burkhardt didn't get caught up in her game.

She was still beautiful, but she had embraced the role of motherhood wholeheartedly, and seemed quite content to raise her son with Nick quietly. The pull of being among the city's elite, rich, and politically influential people no longer motivated her decisions.

The love and the thrill of power no longer held sway.

Though she had aligned herself with a pretty powerful Grimm, he mused sourly, so perhaps he shouldn't write off the notion that she was no longer attracted to power.

A Hexenbiest and a Grimm.

He snorts again.

Such a duo ought to stand out in a crowd, a Wesen crowd at least, but so far, he has recovered precious little information as to where two Hexenbiests, a Grimm, and a hybrid infant have gone off to.

And he certainly has enough people looking.

This latest report is frustrating to say the least.

It's been three months now and _nothing_.

And he can't imagine, even if Adalind and Nick could, that Diana would be able to keep herself in check for the long haul, given her impulsive behavior. Given what she did to Rachel, he half wonders if Nick is even alive. Maybe Adalind isn't either, and the thought chills him for a moment. He's not sure that his daughter would wish harm on her own mother, but maybe it's possible she wouldn't even realize what she was doing when she was doing it.

Which means, she could do something horrible to her father, and maybe not realize it.

He has no idea if even his daughter or Adalind are okay.

He has every cop under his command looking for clues. Every body they discover, every missing persons, every case that comes across the police blotter that's brutal, or bloody, or weird (even for Portland) he studies carefully for signs of Nick, or Adalind, or Diana, in them.

The new captain of the precinct he appointed is keeping close tabs on Nick's little Scooby gang. He's got Hank and Wu under close watch at the station. Eyes on Rosalee and Monroe, and that repairman Eisbieber friend of Nick's, too, but Eve and Trubel have been harder to keep track of and he only learned of their cross-country trip to Nick's birthplace by happenstance, and then he was scrambling to find someone who could report in on what they were doing. He's got feelers out everywhere, keeping tabs on the situation, reporting back, and Black Claw's influence and network spans continents, so he's confident if something becomes of their search he'll hear about it, though with the loss of Bonaparte the organization has been scrambling, disorganized, and slower than he expected to accept Sean as an acceptable replacement.

Judging by the amount of discreet searching still being conducted from Hank and Wu, and Rosalee and Monroe and the others, Nick's friends don't know what's going on either, which is curious, too. Nick wouldn't confide in one of them? He and the Blutbad were especially close, but it doesn't appear Monroe has any idea what has happened to his friend.

He tries to brush this troubling thought aside, but he finds himself brooding over it frequently. Is his family at work again on Nick? Have the other royal families that oppose him joined forces to try to slow Sean's ascent into power? Did Nick volunteer his services to them? _Would_ Nick volunteer his services? He's hardly the type that likes to be under the thumb of someone, but perhaps he made the move when Sean and Bonaparte made theirs against Nick's family.

He wonders who in the royal families would reach out to him? Adalind would be his gateway of information into that, especially Sean's side of the family. If that was the case, having Adalind with him is even more understandable, but after Adalind's dubious part in the middle of all this family drama, he's not sure anyone on his side would trust her to be making decisions or guiding those of Nick's.

They certainly don't need her to raise Diana, but now that Diana's been reunited with her mother, and given what he's seen about her desire to stay with her mother and keep her safe, maybe the royals learned the hard way they had no choice in the matter.

Still, three months, someone from his side of the family would come forward to gloat. He still has connections there, people that feed him information from the inside and no one's seen anything of the pretty blonde lawyer or the Grimm, and definitely nothing of the royal heir.

Which begs the next possibility, more troubling, something more serious than secrets, lies and back office deals with ambitious royals: Something else befell Nick and Adalind.

They were dead.

If that were the case, who killed them and why? Someone in Black Claw? After all the trouble Nick and Adalind gave them he could see someone eliminating the possibility of any further issues, but certainly someone would claim responsibly. A Grimm was dead, after all, and a troublesome Hexenbiest who didn't want to side with the New World Order.

But Diana, where was she? Was she dead, too?

He had only just reunited with his daughter. The election and campaign, on top of work, had hardly given him any time to spend with her, get to know her, though what he'd discovered about her was alarming and disturbing, to say the least.

Which brings him back to his original thought: If Nick's alive, he wonders if Nick knows what he's gotten himself into by taking his daughter and Adalind with him.

And if Nick is dead, did Diana kill him?

%%%%%

It's late when he gets home. The security detail Bonaparte had set up prior to Renard and Adalind and her children moving in greets him with a nod. The place is enormous, another obnoxious, ornate and stately structure, much more in line with his father's tastes than Sean's.

He prefers the clean, modern lines of his old house, but that's been abandoned for a long time, and since sold, the money going into some Black Claw/mayoral campaign fund that he never really agreed to. What remains of Black Claw is merely embers.

The house was too big even before Adalind and company set up house in it, along with a dozen members of Bonaparte's entourage, and it feels even larger without the children and Adalind breaking up the imperialism. Not that Adalind ever made the house feel warm, not with her chilly reception to him, Bonaparte and all the other aspects of their situation. Still, Adalind had been familiar, and she was nothing but a clever opportunist. If there was a way out of the confines Bonaparte had them ensconced in, she was the likeliest to discover it and use it to advantage.

Unfortunately, whatever she discovered was to her advantage, not Sean's, because three months ago, when he came home from his last official day at the precinct, Adalind, along with her son and his daughter, were gone.

And so was, he later discovered, Nick.

He twists the top off a brandy decanter and pours himself a large tumbler.

No trace of them. Just two cell phones found on the side of a road blocks away from downtown Portland days later. No trace of Nick's car either, and he's got every cop in Portland and beyond looking for it, too. He sips the brandy, mulling over the information Sarah had given him.

He doesn't know why Eve and Trubel would go all the way to New York. He's not aware that Nick has any other living family that could help him. Adalind certainly doesn't have anyone that would help them, not when they realized she was shacking up with a Grimm. All of Nick's resources were right there in Portland, and yet by all indications, they were just as bewildered as Sean was as to his whereabouts.

All of it pointed to the fact that Nick had either gone to ground, escaped the country without his knowing, or had discovered some powerful allies willing to help him. He knows H.W. in Portland, like Black Claw, took a blow. The loss of Meisner…

The loss of Meisner…he stares down into his tumbler, watching the amber liquid as gently rolled around in the glass as he moved it.

Meisner was another opportunity that Bonaparte squandered. Like Nick, he should have gone at Meisner a different away. If they could have secured Meisner and H.W., they would have had resources like Eve at their disposal, but he sighs, understanding how unlikely it was to happen.

Still, Meisner had long been an important ally, and he had Meisner to thank for the reclamation of his daughter and the death of his father. Had things gone another way, they could have been a force to be reckoned with in Portland.

Instead, he was dealing with an insurrection.

A Grimm like Nick in Portland would be welcome right now. Meisner would have been handy, too, in quelling a rebellion. His daughter could be critical to silencing the doubters and outright dissenters demanding he step down from his position as Mayor.

It was getting harder and harder to control the masses, especially those that were calling for action, opposing the platforms he worked hard to put together.

Portland was descending into chaos, and he didn't think it said much about his ability to rule that the first three months of his reign was marked by Wesen on Wesen violence. Of course, Wesen were notorious for violence, and he wasn't lying to Nick when he'd told him they were responsible for most of the violent crimes the department came across. Still, the uptick in the violence since he took office didn't reflect well on his leadership abilities to his peers. The Kehrseites were hardly built to handle the disorder erupting everywhere, and the Wesen he tasked to the job of restoring some order were merely contributing to the bedlam, not eradicating it. Grimms had long controlled Wesen who stepped out of line, were far more equipped to do the job efficiently and effectively, and he could use one right about now.

And he could use his daughter to remind everyone of who they were dealing with, too. That little trick with Bonaparte, and those others with Sean and her mother…it would be useful right about now, for some of the things he was up against.

Instead, he's fighting his own people to maintain his hold on the city.

%%%%%

It's not just the wesen of Portland who are terrified of upsetting the status quo of the last thousand years giving him trouble. There are many of those who are content and prefer to live their otherworldly nature and lives in secret as they, and all their ancestors, have for generations. There are the ones who sided with Black Claw and Bonaparte that remain who are clamoring for change and unwilling to wait or make the steps necessary to transition into the mainstream society.

Now there's pandemonium in Portland as Kehrseites are being introduced to things they've never seen and can hardly comprehend. Naturally, that which is unfamiliar and terrifying, is treated with hostility. Kehrseites are attacking Wesen. Wesen are attacking Kehrseites, angry with hundreds of years of oppression, and Wesen are attacking other Wesen, angry with those who won't side with them and support the cause.

All it is, is creating a wasteland of a once beautiful and prosperous city and Sean is trying everything he can to keep Portland alive and relevant, not just another urban area lost to violence and crime.

The efforts to do so have resulted in a few dozen acts of crime itself, either physically perpetrated by him, or approved by him, and no little amount of seedy arrangements with some questionable characters. There's been far more consorting with people on the fringe of society than he likes, preferring to keep his hands clean of any undesirables, but without a Grimm (or two) it's becoming impossible to keep everyone in check.

The police department is overrun with crimes to solve, and there's a backlog of murder investigations of epic proportions since he left. He doesn't think that Hendrick is doing anything other than collecting bribes from prominent members of society in exchange for "protection," and the whole thing is starting to rankle.

It prompts a visit to the station one day, and his presence is greeted with cautious welcome. He's aware the police department, like the city, it seems, is divided up into two camps. Those who think Nick's innocent despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, and those wesen officers that sided with Sean. He meets Hank's eyes as he enters the department and a sour expression crosses the former detective's face.

"Hank," Sean says, aware they haven't talked since they exchanged a few veiled threats to one another in the early days of Nick's disappearance.

"Mr. Mayor," Hank replies with condescension, minimizing a window on his screen. He leans back and smirks at Sean, knowing Sean saw him trying to hide something on his computer. Sean has Hendrick have the IT department track any activity on Hank's and Wu's work computers, and so far, in the last few weeks there's been no activity to indicate either one is still searching for Nick's whereabouts.

That could mean he knows where Nick is, or has given up.

"There's several open homicides that I'm waiting impatiently for resolution on."

"Oh, there's at least a dozen open homicides, Mr. Mayor, that I'm working on, so I guess you're just going to have to wait some more."

Sean levels a stare at Hank, unimpressed with his flip attitude.

"If you don't think you can do the job, maybe you should resign," he suggests, and Hank tilts his head, considering.

"Maybe I should," he agrees, and they stare at each other.

Hank's not going to resign and lose all the police capabilities of tracking. The department offers him resources and accesses that a private civilian doesn't have to search for someone.

"I hear San Francisco's hiring," Hank continues. "Spokane, too. I'm sure lots of places are," he says. Not that he wouldn't blackball Hank anywhere he tries to go, and Sean's sure Hank knows that, but losing Hank would mean losing a direct link to Nick that's under his thumb.

His eyes darken as Hank meets his gaze challengingly. Sean needs Hank, just like Hank needs the job and the resources it provides.

"The Forest Park murders, and the Davidson homicides - Make them a priority."

"I've been swamped. Trying to break in a new partner, too, a rookie. Hard when you don't have good help. A partner that can pull his weight… Well, it's going to be a while."

"Mr. Mayor!" Hendrick says, coming out of his office when he spots Sean through the blinds. "Did we have an appointment?"

"Didn't think I needed one," Sean says with another look at Hank before moving his eyes to Hendrick. Hendrick steps back and holds the office door open, inviting him in, and Sean moves away from Hank towards his old office and encounters Wu, who gives him a sardonic look. Something strange has been going on with him, too, but Hendrick hasn't reported anything of interest back and Sean wonders if he's even trying at this point. He's gotten more information from his own lackeys who reported Wu took a couple days off last month and spent it locked up in his apartment.

He takes a seat in front of his old desk, looking around as he does at the changes Hendrick's made in the last few months. The desktop is sloppy, filled with folders and papers, presumably of cases, but given the lack of progress in the department since Sean left, he doubts there's much work on Hendrick's end that's been done.

"Why are we making no progress on those two cases I gave you?" Sean starts off.

"I gave them to Griffin and Orwin," Hendrick replies.

"And I gave them to you, with specific instructions to get your best people on it and to get them solved ASAP." There's no denying with what they're up against Hank's probably the best qualified detective for the job – except of course, he's no longer a detective. He'd been all for Hendrick demoting Hank, especially after all the trouble Hank, and Wu, gave Sean with regards to Nick. Now, though, he wonders if maybe he's going to start regretting that decision.

"Who's his new partner?" he adds.

"Orwin," Hendrick replies, sneering. Sean frowns, trying to place the face with the name. "Judge Allen's nephew. His wife has been pressuring him to find him a job, and Allen's been after me, so seemed like pairing him with Griffin was two birds, one stone."

Sean's frown deepens. "A rookie?" Nick had been a rookie, too. Once. But Nick was in a different category than Orwin.

"Yeah, Sergeant Griffin's been showing him the ropes," Hendrick says with a chuckle. Sean might be more amused if the two cases he was referring to didn't need a good detective on it – a good detective familiar with Wesen cases and issues, with the resources at their disposal, such as Monroe and Rosalee, to figure out what they were up against and take care of it. The Forest Park murders and the Davidson homicides were two series of incidences that the press was having a field day with, fanning the flames of fear and paranoia. They were also of further concern to Sean, who detected there might be a threat even bigger than those trying to overthrow him in Portland.

"Well, pull him off or reassign him," Sean says, and the smile abruptly leaves Hendrick's face. "I need those cases solved now. The community is reeling and we don't need any more press about another gruesome body found and the lack of progress from the Portland P.D."

"You mean, _you_ don't need any more press?" Hendrick retorts.

No, he doesn't. The press in combination with some other policy factors have started to question whether Sean can be a competent leader. More yellow journalism from those factions who expected a more rapid ascent into a Wesen controlled world and are upset at the pace Sean's implemented.

He's fully prepared to bring Portland, and the world, into the twenty-first century, but he's also fully aware that it can't, and shouldn't happen overnight. He needs to gain the trust of the people, try to eliminate the in-fighting and violence going on so that he can show that it's possible to live prosperously in a Wesen run world. That he's an effective and opportunistic leader.

Harder to do when every headline is proclaiming a strange and hideous murder every week and hinting loudly that the new Mayor might be in over his head.

"I would think solving them and ensuring you have your best people on it is to your benefit, Captain. The chaos that's resulting is from your lack of progress, and it's creating more work for your department. You look incompetent."

Hendrick's ears flatten as he woges briefly with anger, his snout wrinkled, showing sharp teeth. His eyes darken to full black and Sean stares back, unimpressed, as Hendrick regains his composure and his face flips back to normal.

"With all due respect, Mr. Mayor, it's your policies that are creating more work. I don't think the people that voted for you were hoping for a lame duck mayoral candidate. If you'd just let us take care of things like I had asked—"

"And then we'd be instituting martial law, wouldn't we?" Sean cut in. "Just what our fair city needs. For the citizens of Portland to fear authority and flee."

He needs to prove that governing a diverse body such as Portland can work, that he can control the constituents and prevent the town from descending into the kind chaos that the whole world is expecting if they found out what it's really made of. He'll never move up, gain more positions of authority and power, if he can't control his own people and his own city.

"If you feel the job's too much for you," Sean begins, looking at Hendrick and Hendrick's eyes darken again. "Then I'll find someone else who can do the job."

He lets the threat hang in the air and Hendrick clenches his jaw for a moment as he fights to keep his temper under control.

"No, Mr. Mayor. That won't be necessary."

"Good. I expect Hank to start making some progress on those cases ASAP. I look forward to our next progress report."


	10. Part Two - Chapter Five

AN: Squee! (re: series finale)

%%%%

"I think a teaspoon twice a day, taken in some tea, should have you feeling like normal in a week."

"Thank you so much!" the Seelengut bleats, and Rosalee flashes a smile. She rings her purchases, bags them up and then watches as she exits out the door and past the shop window.

"Okay, you can come up now," she calls. "She's gone."

"Sorry, I just knew if she saw me she'd freak out," Monroe says, opening the door to the room next to the main floor of the shop. "Seelengut and Blutbaden…"

"Probably wise to stay out of sight," she agrees.

"That your last customer of the day?" Monroe asks, and Rosalee checks her watch.

"I think so." She walks over to the door and flips the sign in the window so it says _closed_ and breathes a sigh.

"Good, Hank called and said he and Wu are coming over in a bit."

"Oh, okay," she says, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She's exhausted. She didn't realize how much of her energy would be sapped with the baby. Most days she feels like curling up on the single bed in the side room of the shop and taking an extended nap. She had been looking forward to going home shortly after closing, enjoying a quiet evening at home, resting on the couch listening to Monroe chatter on about some topic or another while he tended to one of his clocks.

Looks like that's gone by the wayside. Of course, her exhaustion could also be because of everything else going on in her life right now, too.

The new mayor's orders for civility are largely falling on deaf ears.

It's quickly becoming clear that things are happening within the city that are beyond his ability to control.

She listens absently to Monroe as he gathers some boxes of stock and relays the extent of his day, a surprisingly quiet and uneventful one. After all the harassment and scrutiny of the last few months, about Nick, about Adalind, where they and Diana might be, it was almost unsettling to not have to worry or wonder about Wesen looking for information on Nick, or to make their lives harder because they were friends with him. The last handful of weeks it seems attention has been turning away from them as things heat up in Portland. She wonders what this seemingly waning interest in Nick and his whereabouts means. If it's something meant to throw them off-guard, or that Renard, like them, is realizing there's no answers to be had no matter how hard he tries to find them.

No one's trying harder than they are and there's absolutely a big, fat, lot of nothing. She smooths her hand over her belly, a barely detectable bump at this stage, and contemplates where her friends might be.

If they're alive.

She wonders what's happening with Kelly, and Diana. If they're safe and happy with their parents, or if they're dead in a grave beside them. Well, likely Diana wasn't, but tears spring to her eyes as she thinks of Kelly and his sweet baby face and the thought of something horrible happening to him.

She's trying to stay optimistic like everyone else but, like everyone else, she can't imagine Nick staying silent for this long without some sort of sign that he was alive. She keeps going over everything, wondering if the signal she's looking for is so subtle she may have missed it, but there's been nothing for weeks, and now doubt and dismay are starting to creep in. She can't help the traitorous thought that suggests it may be time for all of them to move on.

They have other things they need to focus on, not just Nick and Adalind.

She keeps having strange cramps – infrequently enough that she doesn't think there's a pattern or rhyme or reason, but it's concerning nonetheless. She's waiting until her next appointment to say something to the obstetrician, and she hasn't mentioned anything yet to Monroe—he's already worried enough about protecting her and their child without a threat coming from within that he has no control over.

She wishes Adalind were here to ask; as the mother of two children, she knew a little something about pregnancy.

She suspects it's stress-related anyway, which makes the notion of putting aside what happened to Nick and his family more palatable, since nothing distresses her more than contemplating what her friends' absences mean.

More, but not much.

She misses Nick, of course, and Kelly, but she also misses Adalind fiercely. She hadn't realized how close she had grown to Adalind, how she'd come to look forward to her phone calls and visits. She can't help but miss the conversations she and Adalind could be having. She's feels wistful over missing out on talks about the baby, and what her body's going through and how she's feeling. All those little things that new mothers sit and do, exchanging tips about feeding, and nap times, and cloth versus disposable diapers; and all the big things, like raising a mixed family, with parents from two very different backgrounds, and their concerns for the future and what it holds.

The fun things, too: planning cute little playdates with her baby and Kelly. Birthday parties celebrated together as family. Milestones achieved – the first tooth, the first smile, the first word. Wondering what each child will grow up to become, with their unique genetic makeup.

She'd grown to genuinely like Adalind over the months after she and Nick decided to undertake the (Wesen) world's strangest parenting situation. She was funny, and clever, and loyal, and brave, and deeply, deeply, in love with Nick.

She misses the glimpses of Nick and Adalind's relationship as it developed, as they circle each other cautiously, drawn to the other and hesitant to take steps to bring themselves closer, after everything they've done to each other. Afraid to believe what they feel might be real, and shared by the other. The way Adalind subconsciously lights up when talking about her son – and Nick. How much it's apparent she loves them both.

Adalind's self-deprecating humor and wit about the events in her life, and all the rest.

She just misses another female perspective; someone she can be close to and have a real conversation with.

She's tried with Trubel, and she's tried with Eve, but her feelings on Eve-Juliette-are so complicated it's hard to know where to separate the two, and it's not helping now that Juliette is bleeding back through. It doesn't appear that Eve/Juliette knows where to draw the line either.

There's still some lingering resentment tied to the anguish she feels over what happened to Nick's former love.

Can she forgive what Eve as Juliette did to Monroe? To Nick? To all of them? Can she go back to the friends they were before? Is it possible to put it all behind them?

She knows it wasn't Juliette's fault, what happened to her. But what she did… She feels it will always be between them, lingering like a cancer, perhaps in remission, but always at risk for returning. There are times she feels like maybe she could – they all could - move on, maybe, if – they - she could get past it. Or maybe she just doesn't want to deal with all the complicated feelings that are associated with it, and it's easier, so long as Eve does her part to keep up the charade, to pretend it's in the past; something that occurred in another lifetime—some other one's lifetime.

She doesn't think that Eve will be able to hold off the resurrection of Juliette. And it's weird how she can think of them of two separate people when, really, they're not. But if Juliette is the one keeping the past alive with regret and remembrances of her actions, there's going to be a wedge between them all, because the truth is…they just can't go back.

"Hey," she hears and looks up into Monroe's warm, brown eyes. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," she says nodding, "I'm okay. Just—had a moment, caught myself wondering about Adalind. I was thinking about the baby."

"Yeah," Monroe sighs. "I miss them, too. Nick's missing out," Monroe says, looking away, and Rosalee watches him as he tries to avoid her eyes. Monroe misses Nick profoundly. She's not the only one who lost a close friend. Monroe lost a member of his family. "I bet he'd be so excited to find out he's going to be an uncle."

Rosalee smiles, feeling her eyes water again, and forces her mouth not to tremble. "Uncle?"

"Yeah, like I'm uncle Mo-mo."

"Uncle Mo-mo?" she breaks in, laughing. "Since when are you Uncle Mo-mo?"

"Oh. Right, you weren't there for that conversation," Monroe says, face reddening, looking like he wished he hadn't said anything.

"No. What conversation?"

"Uh, the, uh, conversation where Nick christened me Kelly's uncle Mo-mo."

"When was this? I want to hear this conversation."

"Oh. Well, we were here, in the spice shop, talking, and kind of joking around, and Nick said I would be Kelly's uncle Mo-mo."

"Mo-mo?" she repeats. "That seems like an awfully condensed version of this conversation. Surely there's more to it than that."

"Not really," Monroe says, embarrassed. "Adalind's mama, Nick's dada, Diana would be Deedee, and I would be-"

"Mo-mo, right. I get it," she says with and Monroe grins.

"Yeah, Mo-mo. For Monroe."

"Ah," she says, biting down a smile.

"You had to be there," Monroe says at her look.

"I'm sorry I wasn't."

"Plus, you know, we're like brothers. Brothers from _totally_ different mothers, but brothers."

"I can see it. The resemblance is striking," Rosalee says, playing along and Monroe smiles again.

The smile is brief before sadness creeps in. "Anyway, since I'm Kelly's uncle, then that of course would mean that Nick's our little one's uncle."

"Uncle Ni-Ni?" Rosalee tries and Monroe cringes. "Ugh, I'm sorry I said it," Rosalee says, making a face herself.

"Anyway, I told him how I couldn't wait until you and are started our own family, and you know, here we are."

Two friends fewer to share it with.

"I miss them," Rosalee breathes, and Monroe meets her eyes again.

"Me too."

"Do you think they're okay?" she asks him, but he's saved from answering by a noise in the back.

"Monroe? Rosalee?" Hank's voice calls.

"We're here," Rosalee answers, not sure she wanted to hear Monroe voice a response to her question anyway. The hesitation, just before he started to open his mouth, pierced like a knife in the gut.

"Wow, you look tired," Wu says, by way of greeting.

"For the record, not what any woman wants to hear as the first thing out of someone's mouth, pregnant or not."

"Sorry," Wu apologizes, shrugging the strap of a laden satchel over his head and setting it on the counter. He's still going through Nick's Grimm books, and most of the Wesen books in Rosalee's shop, trying to uncover more information about his situation. Rosalee's reminded the full moon is in a little over three days. This last one was difficult for Wu, and she suspects it's going to be a while before it gets easier and he's able to gain control of his new nature.

"Rough day?" Wu asks, glancing at her, no doubt wondering about the expression on her face.

"Busy day," she replies and rubs a hand across the back of her neck. "Monroe and I were just thinking about Nick…and Adalind and everything."

"Yeah, that explains the look," he says, shaking his head. Rosalee reaches for a box of stock she had been working on in between customers and attempts to finish it.

"Nothing new?" She asks them, but already knows the answer. Hank shakes his head.

"It's like they've vanished into thin air," Wu says impatiently, also not for the first time. "I just don't get it."

"I know," Rosalee murmurs.

"So, if you haven't got anything new on Nick then what brings you here?" Monroe asks them.

"New case," Hank says, with a raise of eyebrows.

"Ah. And how are things at the station?"

Wu snorts.

"Interesting," he says drolly. "And by interesting, I mean ridiculous."

"The new captain?"

"The new captain and the old one, our esteemed mayor of Portland. Contributing to the delinquency and disintegration of Portland as we know it."

"Still spying on you?"

"Oh, yeah," Wu shakes his head. "I find it interesting the mayor is still searching so hard for Nick."

"He assumes Nick has his daughter," Rosalee points out.

"Yeah," Wu agrees, "and you would think that's his biggest concern, but it's not like he's even really focused on her. I mean he is, but right now, it's all about Nick."

"The revolution is blowing up in his face. The Wesen uprising is getting harder and harder to control. He can't afford to let the city descend into freefall. It will undermine what he's trying to accomplish. He needs a Grimm to help control them. He needs Nick."

"Which is why we're here," Hank says.

"What do you mean?"

"Capt—the Mayor came down to the station and told me to prioritize a couple of homicide cases I'd been assigned a few weeks ago. Then he went into Hendrick's office to make sure I prioritized it."

"What does that mean?"

"That means Officer Orwin is no longer my biggest problem."

"So who is?"

"Whoever's responsible for this mess," Hank says, handing them a folder.

"Ugh," Monroe says, wincing, when he opens it. "Dude, a little warning next time. I just had salsa."

"Sorry."

"Those are the victims," Rosalee says incredulously, looking over his shoulder. But, of course they are.

"What's left of them," Wu says.

%%%%%

"Wouldn't Diana be better? I mean, if she's so powerful, wouldn't she be the better choice?" Wu says, an hour later when they're all downstairs, chowing down on some Chinese and going over what Hank knows about his two cases. They had taken a break to eat, and Wu had taken the opportunity to return to their original topic of discussion: Renard's fascination with finding Nick.

"I don't know. Does Diana have any real concept of her power and what she can do?" Monroe counters.

"Given what we've seen of it, I would think so," Wu says dryly.

"Yeah, but can she control it? Can _Renard_ control it?"

"What we've seen of it is very advanced for someone so young. A child, the impulse she must have to use her power, I don't know. So young and so powerful—she's dangerous. Maybe as dangerous as anything we're dealing with here. Nick might be the easier one to control. I think Renard realizes that."

"That's not saying much, because you know Nick would be anything but cooperative."

"Not if they had Kelly. Or Adalind, which is why Black Claw was so quick to get both."

"Or this," Hank says, pointing to the file. "You know Renard wants Nick back in Portland so he can start cleaning it up of all the bad Wesen. I mean, who better than a Grimm. Kind of what they're made for. Something that's doing this, Nick would have no choice but to take care of this. You can't keep letting this go on in the city."

"I just wish I knew what happened to them," Wu says emphatically. "Are they dead? Being held prisoner? What? The complete lack of evidence – I mean, all I can think is cover up. But what are they covering up? And who's they? Have we heard anything from Trubel and Eve?"

"Last I heard they had picked up Josh and were on their way back, but I don't know when they anticipate getting back into town. From what I could tell there's been no hint of Nick anywhere they've gone."

"What we figured," Hank points out. "I mean, he has no family left, so where would he even go?"

"Do you think he'd try to contact the royals himself?" Wu asks her, and she shakes her head slowly, as Monroe shakes his emphatically no.

"No. Definitely not."

"No, I don't think so. And without saying anything to us? No. I don't think Nick wants anything to do with all that, but – honestly, I don't know anymore. Every scenario that I thought was unlikely, looks more and more plausible as the time stretches on and we still don't have any idea what's happened. If Nick thought that the only way to defeat Renard, take back control of the city was a deal with the royals…maybe it's not so far-fetched." Rosalee bites her lip, debating on voicing her next thought out loud. "I keep going back to it. Maybe the reason we haven't heard anything, or found anything, is because they're dead, and we may just never know it or find a body."

She glances up at the room, meeting everyone's eyes, and waits for it: denial, judgment, disappointment—something—to surface in them at voicing the thought out loud that they've all had.

"I mean, we could be looking for years," she continues. "And never know. How often do people go missing and are never found? Maybe this whole search is pointless. Maybe we need to focus on our lives now and move on."

No one says anything for a long, long moment and Rosalee wishes she could swallow the words whole.

"I hate myself for even saying it, but there's so much going on right now," she defends, needing to fill the silence, which feels like a judgment on her.

"I know," Hank sighs. "You're not voicing anything that I haven't thought myself a dozen times already."

Rosalee exhales slowly.

"We've got so much to think about, with the baby and everything. I mean, what is life going to be like here in another six months, if things keep on the way they have been. To bring a child into this? I love Nick and Adalind, but I'm not sure how many more resources I can devote to the search for them and still keep our baby safe. I mean, what happens when the baby comes? Monroe and I have big decisions to make. I'm not putting our baby at risk."

"I wouldn't want you to," Hank says.

She doesn't add that their helping with the wesen cases, such as this, might be doing exactly that. She knows Hank doesn't mean anything by it, and without Nick he's essentially lost anyway. There's only so much he can do without a more familiar knowledge that a Grimm or natural born Wesen would have. Or an unnatural Wesen, she thinks, thinking of Eve, and then Wu. She'll be glad when Eve and Trubel return, so they can take over the casework.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Yeah," she admits. "It's not that I'm not worried what happened to Nick and Adalind, or don't care, it's just…we've done everything we could with what little information we have. I think I need to put that aside for a while and focus on what Monroe and I need to do about our situation," And Wu nods, but doesn't say anything.

"I know what you mean," Hank offers after a long, awkwardly quiet moment. "Wu and I have plenty to deal with at the station and you're right: the investigation into Nick's whereabouts and what happened is going nowhere. You're not the first person to seriously consider that what happened to Nick, and Adalind and Kelly and Diana may never be explained."

"And I've got plenty to deal with, too, with my situation. Full moon this Friday," Wu adds.

"Are you ready for it?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess."

"We're not giving up on them," Monroe insists.

"Right," Wu agrees.

"Of course not," Rosalee says.

"We're just tabling the investigation until some new evidence comes forward," Hank says.

"Exactly. If something new comes up, I mean, of course we'll revisit it," she states and Wu nods his head in agreement.

%%%%%

She listens as Monroe putters about the room, both of them getting ready for bed. She can tell by his movements he's thinking hard about something, and she's sure that something is their decision to pause in the search for what happened to Nick and Adalind.

"I can hear you thinking from over here," Rosalee says. "You want to talk about it?"

Monroe sighs, and shakes his head. He takes a seat on the bed, his back to her, and turns his head slightly.

"Nothing really to talk about."

"Are you mad about what I said?" she presses.

"No," he says with another sigh. "I just can't believe after all this time...I mean I would have thought we would have heard _something._ Found _something._ I mean, Nick would have found a way to get a message to us, if he was okay."

"Right," Rosalee nods. "If he was okay."

Monroe looks down.

"I just can't believe...I can't think...after everything...he might be dead. Adalind might be dead. _Kelly_ might be dead."

"I know, but he's not invincible, much as we all like to believe."

"That stick saved his life," Monroe tells her. "You saw those bullet holes. No way he could have survived those shots without it."

"He may not have had the stick on them, when...whenever happened."

"So where is it?"

"I don't know," she says with a sigh of frustration, and that's another sobering thought because given what little they know about the stick, it doesn't need to be in the hands of someone who doesn't respect it.

"I know how much you miss Nick," she says and Monroe smiles a half smile and shakes his head.

"You're right. The most important thing, though, is what we're going to do about our lives, and especially this little one," he says, reaching over and placing a hand on Rosalee's stomach. "Nick would get that."

"He would," she agrees. Adalind, too, she thinks. She has first hand knowledge of what losing a child means. She feels certain that Adalind would agree that Rosalee's number one priority was that of her child and her family.

"So what are we going to do?" Monroe asks her after a moment.

"Honestly?" Rosalee says, and he nods. She hesitates a moment and dives in. "I'm not even sure I want to raise our child here in Portland." Monroe glances up at her. "I mean, have you seen this place lately? It's crazy."

"What are you saying? You want to move?"

"Maybe, yeah," she admits.

"Just pick up and leave all our friends?"

"It's not like that," she argues with a sigh. Monroe has lived in Portland going on ten years or more. Despite being somewhat of a loner, he's settled into a pretty good life, especially when he became friends with Nick and the relationships that flourished because of that, and the sense of purpose. She, however, has lived a largely nomadic life, especially the last twenty years. Portland's been the first place that feels like home in a long time, and that's largely because of Monroe.

"It's exactly like that," he protests, but he looks away, almost ashamed, leaving Rosalee to believe he's considered something along the same lines, too. They've wanted a child for a while now, but the timing was never right, and still isn't, but regardless, a child is coming, and they need to start preparing for it.

"Where would you want to go?" he asks her. "Up near your mother's?"

"And Dietta? No way," Rosalee says. "I love my sister, but I don't know that I want to live any closer to her."

Although being close to her mom, with a newborn, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing, either, and the truth is, despite her denial, she's considered it, and her mother and sister have certainly pushed for it. But still, she knows the kind of things that follow her and Monroe, the things that followed Nick, and she doesn't want any of that affecting her family.

"Do you think if Renard knew we were expecting that he wouldn't use it against us somehow? He still thinks we're hiding information on Nick, I'm sure."

Monroe shakes his head. "I _know_ he'd use it against us somehow," Monroe says, lips curling in a scowl. "The only reason he hasn't is because he knows we don't have idea what happened to Nick either."

"You think he knows about the baby?"

"Who knows," Monroe says, shrugging. "Probably. He's well connected. And it's going to get harder to hide it the further we get along." He sits pensively for a moment. "Doesn't it seem like to you that things have quieted down on that front in the last couple of weeks?" he asks her.

"What? The surveillance?" she clarifies and Monroe nods. "Yeah," she agrees.

"What do you think that means?" Monroe asks her.

"I don't know. Too much to hope he's finally given up."

"Yeah."

"That's not to say even without Nick that he wouldn't use me or you to try to restore some order among the Wesen population," Rosalee says. "He's in a mess, and he knows we've helped Nick and Hank in the past to try to solve Wesen cases, I'm sure he knows we have some standing in the community that he would and could exploit."

"I am _done_ helping that guy. Not after what he did to Nick, with Adalind and Kelly," Monroe adds.

"So, do you think we should move, too?"

Monroe opens his mouth, hesitates, as he chooses his words carefully. "It's not just that I think we should move – I mean, yeah, there's a large part of me that thinks we should move, yes, - it's that where are we going to move to? The uprising's not just confined to Portland, Rosalee."

"I know, but I'm sure there are places that aren't as affected by it. We could live quietly."

"For how long?"

"I don't know," she snaps, frustrated. "I just—I just can't believe we're finally starting a family, and this is the life it's going to be brought into. Chaos and hate, and fear, and violence. I always thought we'd be able to raise our child like we were raised, hidden, yes, but safe and protected and loved."

"We all thought that, and you know that our baby will be loved."

"Everything is just so messed up," Rosalee laments. "Nick and Adalind and Kelly being gone. Renard as Mayor, for god's sake. Hank and Wu and what they're dealing with down at the station. What you and I are dealing with. Eve, even. I'm just so sick of it all! When do we get time to enjoy this?"

"Shh, I know," Monroe soothes, and pulls his wife into his arms.

"I just thought things would be different. That when this finally happened," she says, pointing to her stomach, "We would still all be together, you know. Our extended family. I mean, it's stupid, but play dates with Kelly, and you and Nick being new fathers, and Adalind and I being able to share stories and tips. I mean, how ridiculous, right, given everything that's been going on in the last few months, even before they disappeared."

"It's not ridiculous. I thought about those things, too." Rosalee sighs and snuggles deeper against his chest.

"Fuchsbau and Blutbad. What do you think our baby will even be like? Do you think our baby will be anything like what Kelly might be?"

"A hexengrimm? Doubtful," Monroe replies pithily. "What do you think we should call ours? Fuchsbad? Blutbau?"

"You know what I mean. Mixed. A hybrid. Do you even think such a child would be accepted?"

"I don't know. We're not the first ones to cross the party lines, so to speak."

"No, but you know that mixing isn't looked upon kindly, and it's rarely spoken about. Wesen of mixed bloodlines have a harder time finding acceptance."

"Maybe in this new regime that Renard is cooking up it won't matter like it did. Wesen for Wesen, right?"

"Maybe, but I still think you're going to have some people who aren't going to be open to it."

"You have closed-minded imbeciles everywhere," Monroe counters and Rosalee concedes the point. "If they don't like it, they can answer to me."

They're both silent, each lost in their thoughts before Monroe speaks again.

"Maybe…maybe it's a good thing that Nick isn't having to bring Kelly up in this," Monroe says haltingly. "I mean, if there is such a thing as a good thing that after everything, he might be dead." He chokes on the last couple of words. "We can't put our lives on hold trying to figure out what happened with theirs. We need to start planning for our future, and what we're going to do to make sure whatever happened to them never happens to us."


	11. Part Three - Chapter One

AN: Many of you have been waiting impatiently to get back to our favorite couple, so here we are again. Posting this before I road trip 11 hours for vacation. Feedback is always appreciated (and will make the roadtrip go faster if I have lots to read).

%%%%

"This is it?" Adalind asks, and she didn't mean to sound so skeptical.

"Home sweet home," Nick replies, holding the door open for Diana as she passes under his arm to follow behind her. Nick shuts the door and she hears the lock click in place.

"It's..."

"Functional," he supplies.

Well, that's one word for it, she thinks. The loft, the loft was functional. This...this is...

"How long do you think we'll be here?" she asks him, shifting the weight of Kelly and his car seat awkwardly on her forearm.

"This is it," Nick says, looking at her, brow furrowing. "What? You don't like it? It's not like we had a lot of options, Adalind."

She nods, trying to soothe the defensive ire she can sense brewing underneath his words. Though everything seemed to go okay, both her and Nick's nerves are shot after partaking in a risky drive back west to gather the things they'll need to make this new life work.

"I know," she says, she takes a few steps over to him, and slides a hand on his arm, trying to appease him and looks around the place again.

Another cabin in the woods, and this one makes the other one seem like a lover's palace. There's not even furniture, and she wonders where Nick had planned on them all sleeping, much less sitting and eating. It's bigger than the last place, though, actual rooms and a loft overhead. A huge fireplace on one end of the cabin, and a smaller one on the other, more like a coal stove, and she gets the feeling that they are the cabin's main source of heat. There's a kitchen, in the loosest sense of the word, but it's an actual space to prepare meals, with full(er)-sized appliances, but, as she noted before, no furniture or stools to eat them on.

Even the place where Diana was born in Austria was cozier than this, certainly had more creature comforts, and that was saying something, while giving birth.

"We'll need to get some things," she tells him and Nick frowns, but nods. He can't honestly expect them to sleep on the floor forever, but then again, maybe he does. She knows he's concerned about cash flow, and it's a valid one at this point: they're rapidly running out. Both the car and the documents needed to start their new lives cost more than either anticipated, and after paying a deposit and rent down on this place, finding a job now is imperative to their survival.

Nick offers a hand for Kelly and his car seat and she passes him to him, glad to have the heavy weight off her arm.

"Well, let's take a look around," Adalind says, smiling at her daughter. She and Diana begin a meandering tour about the place, opening doors, investigating closets, and she's absurdly pleased to see there are a couple. Not that they have anything to fill them, but, still.

"Two bedrooms, and the loft," Nick says, trailing behind. "I figured the kids could take the rooms and we could take the loft, or Diana could take one, and Kelly and us could take the other one."

 _We_. _Us._

The idea of sharing a room, a bed, with him again makes her warm, even if all it amounts to is sleeping beside each other again. These last few weeks on the run have been defined by sharply observed boundaries, especially with Diana with them, and she glances at her daughter worriedly, wondering what she thinks about the proposed sleeping arrangements.

She's also wrestling with the uncertainty she feels about having Kelly sleeping so far away from her.

Really, she's not sure about Diana, either, but Kelly's still so little, and she looks at the high narrow steps and imagines herself running down them, trying to answer one of his cries in the night.

"Maybe Kelly should still stay with us for a little bit," she says. "He might need me."

"I need you, too, Mommy," Diana pipes up and Adalind smiles, though it's strained. Diana seems to need Adalind most when it looks like Nick might be trying to get close to her.

"That's okay. You and the kids can take the loft and I can take one of the rooms, or vice versa," Nick says, without any inflection and Adalind tries to hide her disappointment.

More lines and division, and days spent sleeping apart.

"There's an actual bathroom," he says, and both she and Diana exchange excited looks and peer in at the door he indicated. "Shower works; apparently, the tub leaks though."

She frowns, all the images of a warm, relaxing bath dissipating.

"But there's hot water," Nick adds, and Adalind brightens considerably.

"Thank goodness," she says. "Just the one bathroom?" she asks him and he nods.

"Well, we've all gotten used to sharing," she remarks, and she wonders if she and Nick will share any showers. They shared a couple at the loft, but of course they only had Kelly then. Still the possibility makes her blood hum and she smiles softly at Nick as she moves by him.

They continue the tour, looking at the two bedrooms on the main floor Nick mentioned, small, but, as Nick pointed out earlier, functional. They would be perfect kids' rooms. They all traipse upstairs, even Kelly, held tightly in his carrier by Nick and look at the loft space. It's not much, but it would fit a double bed nicely, maybe a couple of small night stands on either side of it. There's another small closet up here, and she agrees with Nick that it would be a great space for the two of them, except for the complete lack of privacy. It's open to the living area it overlooks. The kids' rooms have doors, so she supposes if she and Nick want to be alone she'll just have to make sure they're closed.

And that they stay closed.

That's if they can even manage to be alone.

Both children, but especially Diana occupy most of her attention and Nick's been more and more distant as the time passes. The sweet and playful Nick of the last cabin they stayed in a few weeks ago has retreated and the brooding, pensive Nick has retaken his spot. She knows the next few weeks are critical, and are weighing heavily upon him. This cabin is merely the first step in starting a new life, under new identities, and making a go of trying to raise their family quietly, out of the pall of the uprising and the Wesen world they've known, most of them all their lives.

She's still skeptical that Nick can just stop being a Grimm. He's tried before and admitted he'd missed it. Why else would Juliette be Eve now? She's even more skeptical that their family can hide what they are.

He's started to wear sunglasses everywhere they go out in public, careful to hide his eyes from any unexpected Wesen encounters, and Adalind's gotten some practice explaining her husband has an eye condition necessitating them when people give them strange looks indoors or as so bold as to ask about them.

Calling Nick her husband has gotten only slightly easier. She detects a small frown and confusion whenever she does within Diana's hearing, which has been twice now, and the first time Diana nearly blew their cover.

She thinks the man who witnessed the incident thinks Adalind and Nick are posing as husband and wife only to their daughter because they don't want her to know they're not married and with children and she was only too glad to let him believe it.

The second time, both she and Diana had prepared, though she thinks Diana held some disapproval as Adalind went about her spiel. She's worried there's some dissension already in the ranks.

"Where are we supposed to sleep?" Diana asks Nick.

"You and your mom will have to go to town and pick out some things," Nick tells her, and Adalind wonders where the closest thrift store is. Even with money, they're not going to get everything they need stuffed into the car. Beds, and mattresses, take up space and she sighs, realizing they have a long road ahead of them.

Still, the loft hadn't been much to look at, but after a few months, it had felt like home. It felt like them, she thinks, and she misses it unexpectedly. Their fome. They had made the space their own, minimalist and survivalist though it seemed. She and Nick had been surprisingly content and even happy there, in their little bubble with Kelly.

A little love, a little elbow grease, and they could be happy here, too, she reminds herself firmly.

"Let's make a list," Adalind says to Diana.

%%%%%

She and Diana and Kelly head into town in their new(ish) car, armed with a list of the barest essentials, while Nick stays behind to do some things around the cabin to get it ready for them.

Their 'new' car is a mid-eighties model Jeep Cherokee that still surprisingly runs, she hopes anyway, because she's about to drive it twenty miles through some remote forest to make her way back into town and she doesn't fancy being stuck on the side of the road with it. Cell service is spotty here, too, especially with their burner phones and getting in touch with someone's not likely either.

She darkened her hair a few weeks ago, while they were in Seattle, a mousy brown color and she can tell Nick's not a fan but there's not much he can say about it. She's too recognizable with her blonde locks and they need to make sure they're not drawing any attention to themselves.

They're after a bed for Diana and a crib for Kelly, everything else for her and Nick can wait they both agree. She doesn't think they'll be much room in the car for much else, even with the back seat folded down and a mattress strapped on top.

"Be careful," Nick advises, as though she wasn't already planning to be. This is the first time since Seattle they've been separated from each other, and she doesn't like it any more than he does.

They finally ditched his Land Cruiser in Washington, risking a circuitous route back west to obtain the documents Adalind spoke of from her source. While she was working her magic (literally) on that, Nick was wiping down the Land Cruiser and dumping it north of the city so that if it was found at least then maybe everyone would think he'd fled to Canada. She would have preferred to sell it, they needed the money after all, but Nick parked it deep somewhere in the woods, hoping that if it was ever discovered, it would be months, if not years after the fact, while she went about securing the documents they'd need to start this new life together under new names.

No longer Nick Burkhardt and Adalind Schade. No chance now of ever being Adalind Burkhardt she reflects, though she doubts there was much of one anyway.

They are now David and Addison Johnson, complete with a fake marriage license between them. "People call me Addy," Adalind adds when she first tries out her new name, and Nick wrinkles his nose slightly at that as well.

"Has anyone ever called you Addy?" he asks her.

"No," she admits, "but this is going to be hard enough as it is." It's a chore retraining herself to call Nick David, and she can tell Nick is struggling to replace her old name with the correct one. At least the new one is close enough in sound to her old one that he can remember it, though Nick had argued against it.

"It's too close to your old name. And I don't think it's a good idea to go with it," he had said when she suggested it, and Adalind had frowned. Addison is her mother's maiden name, and despite their messy mother/daughter, love/hate relationship, it makes her feel close to her to have it. She's not sure why all her most important relationships have to be so complicated, but though her mother wasn't a good mother, she still loved her despite everything that happened between them. She had half-heartedly suggested Kessler as their new last name, knowing it was Nick's mother's and aunt's, but Nick had nixed it immediately, afraid any sort of connection to their past could jeopardize their future and she had to concede his point that it was too risky.

Still, after trying a couple hundred names out, each one sounding impossibly foreign to their own, they finally agreed on those and Adalind set about getting the papers they needed to make them legitimate. Or as legitimate as false documents could make them.

In a few days' time, they'll find out if the quality of them is up to snuff when Nick gets the results from his background check for the game warden job he applied for at the state park, which requires a full background check. She wonders if maybe they should hold off on the decorating in case they have to go on the run again, but she told Nick she's confident they'll hold up under scrutiny and even Nick, with his cop eyes and background, was impressed with the quality.

Trying to convince and train two small children to use and answer to new names would be impossible, so they didn't even try to adopt different names for them, though Kelly was young enough that he would never remember his old one if they did decide to christen him with a new name. She was glad the names she had chosen for her son and daughter had stuck; both, especially Kelly, had deeply personal meaning that she didn't want to erase.

"Remember, don't give out too much information," Nick adds, bringing her thoughts back to the present and she nods.

"I know."

Nick smiles grimly and holds the car door open for her, Diana and Kelly already strapped in, Kelly in his car seat in the back and Diana beside her in the front seat.

"You remember how to get back and find this place, right?" he asks her seriously.

"Yes," Adalind replies, as though the question is ridiculous, though, in fairness, the turn is easy to miss, and she can see why Nick found it another plus when he decided to rent this place.

"Okay, I'll see you in a little bit," he says and Adalind slides into the driver's seat with a nod of her own. She wishes they'd embraced, or kissed goodbye, but Nick shuts the door and steps back, and any thought of a romantic goodbye is put aside for the moment. He watches her fumble to move her seat forward and adjust the mirrors and then she and her children are driving down the bumpy lane back to the highway.

"So, what's first on our list?" She asks Diana, who pulls her eyes away from the scenery going by and looks down at a piece of scratch paper she's been put in charge of safe-keeping.

"Crib and mattress for Kelly, and a bed for me," Diana reads and Adalind nods.

"Okay, time to get our thrift shopping on. This should be fun," she enthuses, but she's not one-hundred percent feeling it. "It takes a certain kind of skill to spot a real find."

It takes longer than she anticipates to find something safe enough and cheap enough for Kelly. There's cribs in the shops, but most are so old they make her nervous as to their safety. She reminds herself both she and Nick slept in some that looked just like what she's trying to decide on, though she doubts theirs had as much rust on the springs. She finally finds what she needs after another patron notices her scrutiny and her two children and tells her about a local church that helps underprivileged families get the things they need. She finds a bed for Diana there, and a crib for Kelly, and a couple of small bureaus for both. She finds much needed winter clothes, too, and soon both her children are outfitted in jackets appropriate for the weather, as well as hats and gloves and boots. She grabs a pair of boots for herself, and some gloves, but holds off on a heavier coat for the time being. There's still blankets and other things to buy, not the least of which is food and the plates to eat it on, but she buys a couple more outfits for each child and hopes she can get the rest when Nick gets paid. His first paycheck is already spent, and she fervently hopes that everything goes through with the background check and he gets the job, because they desperately need it. One of the clerks helps her load the car, and after another stop for a mattress for Diana and Kelly, and some groceries, she's heading back down the highway, looking for the turn she told Nick she could find.

It's darker now, so she drives a couple of miles past it before she realizes she's missed it. She makes a careful U-turn, making sure no cars are following, but their cabin is located quite a ways up the mountain and the road is literally one that is less traveled. She creeps along the highway making sure she doesn't go past it again. She still almost misses it a second time and she hears the load shift as she abruptly makes the turn and hopes she's not going to have to pick up mattresses from the ditch or the trees. By the time she makes the slow, laborious trip up the lane back to their cabin, it's full dark out and Nick's waiting outside. She gives him a smile in relief, and realizes he was worried as his eyes travel over her and the children carefully, before eyeing the laden down jeep.

"Sorry," she says, as she gets out. "We're okay. We just had a harder time than I thought we would finding what we needed until someone pointed us in the right direction."

She tells him about the church's "store" as he helps them unload the car, and as she and Nick awkwardly haul the bureaus and Kelly's crib in. He manages the headboard for Diana's bed and the mattresses by himself, and a couple of hours later the kids' beds are made, and Kelly is napping in his newly made crib. Diana's is a full-size bed that Adalind will share with her daughter while Nick sleeps upstairs in the loft on a sleeping bag they procured during their travels, and though she's not happy with the sleeping arrangements, she wants to be close to her children.

Diana bounces on her new bed and Adalind smiles wryly at her.

"You like it?"

"Yeah," Diana says, although anything has to be better than the cruddy hotel rooms and blankets on the floor. She's been trying to make it seem like it was all some big adventure, and now they can finally settle in somewhere and make a home.

"Let's not break it the first day we have it," Adalind says, looking around at the bare, pine log walls, and the overall sparseness of the room, despite the two pieces of furniture. "Maybe we can draw something to put on the walls," she suggests. Or start filling in the blank surfaces as money starts coming in. She hopes it starts coming in, anyway. She's thinking their situation would be better supplemented with another income, but Nick's hesitant to agree, worried about their children and the precarious situation they're in and so, for the time being, she's a stay at home mom again.

In a log cabin.

Out in the middle of the woods.

In the middle of nowhere.

With two small children.

Neither of which is enrolled in a school or daycare of any sort.

While Nick goes to work every day.

Or at least that's the plan.

She sighs and goes about scrubbing down every inch of the cabin with the cleaning supplies she and Diana purchased.

They spend the next few days cleaning and fixing things, Nick getting his handy man on, although it turns out he's not that handy with anything more complicated than a screwdriver and hammer, though he does his best. She finds this absurdly amusing, and maybe it's just the stress of being on the run over the last couple of months. Give him a cross bow or an axe blade though and watch out. It's almost funny to watch him try to do some of the repairs, and Diana's taken to helping him, whether out of pity or a genuine want to assist.

She's reserved around Nick, Adalind notes, and Adalind thinks that now that she's seen her mother's affection for Nick, particularly as they experiment with their new identities and roles, she's not as okay with their relationship as she hoped her daughter would be. She still worries about what Diana's feeling about Nick could mean for him, especially as she's starting to realize what life on the run with her mother means for her, so she's careful not to leave him alone with her.

%%%%%

They eat on the floor that night, their fourth night in a row at the cabin, having an "indoor picnic" for their dinner, which Diana seems to buy into, and Adalind thinks a table and chairs are next on the list of wants and needs. There's still the matter of having a place to sit when they're not eating or sleeping, and Nick's been without so much as a mattress for himself for weeks now, putting the children's and Adalind needs long before his own.

She thinks of the sacrifices he's making, later that night, lying awake in bed. She and her children asleep in relative comfort, both on beds, and under warm blankets while he's upstairs in a sleeping bag on the floor.

She thinks if he's making sacrifices for them, then she should be too, and she slides carefully out from under the covers beside Diana and tiptoes up the stairs.

He's awake and alert, she finds, when she reaches the top. He's sitting up, obviously having heard her get up, hair sticking up adorably in all directions in the faint moonlight.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she says and she can see even in the dark his muddled face. It's freezing cold in the cabin, one of the repairs Nick has yet to master, and she thinks he's going to be forced to call a professional out, something they don't have money for, and don't want to take the risk of inviting more people out to where they are. Despite the adage about heat rising, it's not any warmer upstairs in the loft. She hurries to his side, trying to suppress a shiver as Nick tracks her movements with confusion as she comes around beside him and fumbles with the zipper on his sleeping bag.

It's going to be a tight squeeze, she notes. There's really not a lot of room in there, for two.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" she retorts, getting irritated with the zipper that won't budge. "Why should you have to sleep up here alone on the floor, while we're all tucked in our beds."

"The kids need you," he says and Adalind frowns, wishing he'd admit to needing her, too. Or that it's okay for her to need him.

"They're okay. They're asleep."

"Adalind, no, go back downstairs. I'm fine. It's too cold for you up here."

"Exactly."

She finally gets the zipper open.

"Move over."

"Diana will be looking for you, go back downstairs. I'm fine, Adalind."

"I'm not," she retorts. "Scoot," and after a moment, Nick reluctantly complies.

It's a ridiculously tight squeeze, and Nick finally has to turn on his side in order to allow her enough room to squeeze in. He's surpringly warm, despite a cold nose that brushes against her face.

"There's not a lot of room in here."

"So I see," she says, and there's finally a little wriggle room when she turns on her side to face him. The floor is so hard against her hip, it's painful, even after a few minutes, and she can see why Nick winces as he struggles to get up every morning, though he never says anything in complaint.

"First thing we're going to do with your paycheck is get us a real bed." she says to him, revising her mental list, and Nick sighs.

"I'm fine. Go back downstairs."

He's sporting a decent beard now, and it brushes against her face when he talks. He looks outdoorsy, handsome and gruff, and very, very, sexy.

She figures the easiest and best way to shut him up is to kiss him, so she does, giving in to the part of her that has been clamoring for his attention and affection since they reunited in Portland.

The kiss turns out to be a lengthy one and by the time they're done, Nick is half lying on top of her.

"Still want me to go downstairs," she asks cheekily when they break apart for air, and she feels one of Nick's hands slide through her hair. They kiss again, another long one as they enjoy the feel of one another. She touches his face, fingers enjoying the bristly facial hair when they break apart, and Nick leans forward and captures her mouth again and her hand slides from his face to his hair and she can feel him start to harden against her.

"I've missed you," she confesses, and Nick half smiles in the darkness. Sex in this thing is going to be a process, because despite the physical proximity needed for sex, there's just really no room to work. That doesn't stop her from trying though, as she wiggles about, suddenly up for a furious coupling, right here and now.

Nick doesn't seem opposed to one either, it's been so long, and she struggles to get a hand between them, to try to push Nick's pajama bottoms down as he fumbles with her own.

"Mommy?" she hears a voice below call and Nick breaks away from her mouth suddenly. "Mommy?"

Diana. Of course.

"I'm here," she calls down, trying not to let the frustration show in her voice. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" she says wearily, knowing whatever was about to begin here has died just as suddenly.

"I woke up and you were gone," Diana says, and she can hear her start to ascend the stairs. "I got scared." Adalind struggles to put some distance between her and Nick, laughable in the space they occupy, and Adalind manages to wiggle enough free to sit up, as Nick frees both arms from the confines of the sleeping bag and uses one to prop his head up on his elbow with a quiet sigh.

"Everything's fine. You're okay," Adalind tries to soothe her daughter.

"What are you doing?" Diana asks them when she reaches the top of the stairs and spies them in the darkness, and Adalind rushes to explain before Nick can say anything. It occurs to her only after she opens her mouth that he probably wasn't going to offer anything at all.

"Nick was just cold," she says, and Nick has the audacity to laugh, though he wisely covers it as much as possible with a bout of coughing. "I was just… checking on him, trying to keep him warm." The propane space heater a few feet away comes to life, as Diana uses her powers to activate it, and Nick looks at it as Adalind forces a smile at her daughter.

"We didn't want to waste fuel, but thank you," she says.

"Are you coming back to our room?" Diana asks, and Adalind mentally corrects her. _Our room_ is this one right here, the space she shares with Nick, but it's Nick who answers for her.

"Yeah, your mom will be right down. I'm plenty warm now," he manages to say with a straight face, and Adalind has to fight a snort of her own. _I'll bet,_ she thinks. She's a bit hot and bothered, too. "You can go back downstairs with Diana," he says.

She looks at him, slightly hurt by the dismissal, but there's nothing she can really do but follow Diana back down the stairs to her bedroom.

"Thanks," he adds pointedly to Adalind, and then smiles a little more sincerely at Diana. "I'm warm enough now, you can turn off the heater. We'll save the fuel for another day," and Diana complies wordlessly and waits for her mother to descend the steps with her.

Adalind stifles her frustration at not being able to have another moment alone with Nick, however brief to at least apologize to him for their little interlude being cut so rudely short. He reaches over her to unzip the side and she crawls out, feeling the chill hit her like a slap in the face.

"Goodnight," he says to them, settling back down with a poorly suppressed sigh.

"Goodnight," Adalind says woodenly.

%%%%%


	12. Part Three - Chapter Two

AN: Wow, you guys are great. Getting ready to make the drive back - so the more feedback you leave to read, the quicker that drive goes. :-p

%%%%%

They're regressing.

All the progress they've made in their relationship, pushing forward, developing trust, the bravery she felt admitting her feelings aloud to him—it's slipping away. She's afraid of rejection, and that things have become so complicated he's second guessing the idea of being with her.

He's been distant, physically and emotionally, and Adalind feels like she's losing him. She's terrified he's rethinking this whole plan to run and start anew.

Run and start anew with her, and Diana, in tow.

She wonders if maybe he still thinks about taking Kelly away from everything, including her, and starting somewhere fresh where nobody knows what Nick—or his son—is. How much easier his life would be, without a penitent and reformed hexenbiest and her unpredictable daughter, in it.

Life on the run, with Diana, has not been easy.

Though Diana seems to be willing to make concessions to stay with her mother, they don't appear to include accepting Nick as a substitute for her father. They don't even allow for Nick to be close to her mother, something that Adalind both desperately wants, and fears. She's terrified of what her daughter will do to Nick if she feels he's in the way of whatever idyllic life she's envisioning with her mother, and it feels like they're all just waiting for the moment when Diana draws a line in the sand and declares enough with this experiment.

It doesn't help that their fledgling relationship seems to be influenced and controlled by a prepubescent child.

And that any attempt at affection and intimacy is met with the hard stare of Diana. They're being cock-blocked by her daughter and Adalind decides she's had enough.

Nick's gone into town to finish up some paperwork with his new job and collect his uniform. The documents passed muster because he's scheduled to start his first day on Monday, and Adalind's beside herself that they might be able to start making this crazy idea of theirs work.

That is, of course, if she can convince her daughter to get with the program, and at least give Nick a chance. At least give the idea of Nick and Adalind a chance.

Or, David and Addison, she should say. Now that Nick—David—will be working, they need to make sure their cover is safely in place and that they're skilled and comfortable identifying themselves and answering to the names on all their documents.

It's time to leave Adalind and Nick behind, and begin their new life officially as Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and their two children.

In an effort to lessen the strain of creating more lies to remember, they've tried to keep their background simple, and incorporating as many truths as possible. David and Addy Johnson had a rather tempestuous beginning until they fell in love a few years ago and had a son. They married recently, when Addy fled a controlling and unhealthy relationship with a dangerous and influential man, disappearing and taking her young daughter with her. Though Adalind wasn't thrilled about portraying a victim, Nick pointed out that people would be more likely to protect her and her "secret" if they thought she was trying to safeguard her children and avoiding an abusive ex. Someone suspicious asking after her whereabouts, or of a woman who looked like her or her two children was more likely to be met with unhelpful or vague answers by anyone who knows her story.

The transition has been hard and they're just trying to give their children a fresh start and live life quietly.

They've had one visitor to the cabin, the heating guy, and Nick sent Adalind and the kids into town for the day while the guy was out fixing it.

Whitefish is a small town, though a popular ski resort. There's only a few thousand people and Adalind feels like she stands out as outsiders wherever they go. It's nearly peak season, and if she were better dressed she thinks maybe she and her children could pass as skiers on a family vacation, but she's still wearing the only jacket she has, the woefully inadequate thin wool coat, and she looks out of place and unprepared for the climate. She's always re-prioritizing her shopping list, and she thinks maybe she'll put getting a new coat higher up, but it usually gets pushed back when she realizes all the other things they need. Nick's next three paychecks are already spent in her mind, and she drives past the road to the ski resort, pondering picking up an application to bring in some more income.

She knows she and Nick already talked about it, and she knows she (reluctantly) agreed to wait a bit and make sure everything settled down, and that wherever she went would have to have someplace for her to keep an eye on Kelly and, ideally, Diana, and at this juncture that's highly improbable, but that still doesn't stop her from mulling the consequences of defying everything they agreed on.

She ultimately decides against it—mostly because there's so many question marks about what they need to do with her children and how they'll—meaning Diana—will assimilate into this new life and all the threats that still linger.

"So what do you think about Whitefish?" she asks her daughter.

Diana shrugs. "It's nice," she says.

"Yeah?"

"It's pretty," she adds, looking around, and Adalind agrees. "It looks like where Nick's mommy and I used to live," she shares hesitantly and Adalind jolts.

"Did she live in Montana?"

Diana shrugs again. "No, I don't think so."

Adalind didn't think so either. Nick said he never knew where his mother went to live with Diana, but the assumption had always been that she wasn't far from Portland, which left Adalind to assume Washington, or maybe even southern or eastern Oregon. California, maybe.

"Did you like living with Nick's mommy?" Adalind asks carefully.

"Yeah, she was nice. And funny," she adds. Humorous wasn't one word she would think to apply to Kelly Burkhardt senior, but she's glad Diana got some light-hearted moments out of her.

"Good. She loved you very much," Adalind says, feeling a wave of mixed emotions. Gratitude for the woman who cared so much for her daughter when she was so young, anger and frustration that Adalind wasn't able, or given the chance, to do it herself, thus missing out on a large part of her life.

"Nick loves you, too," she adds in the silence. "What do you think about Nick?" she broaches hesitantly, and Diana turns to look at her. "Do you like Nick?" she prompts, but Diana had claimed she did, but that was before she fully understood what her mother being in love with him meant.

"Yeah," Diana says after a moment. "He seems nice."

"He is," Adalind agreed. "He's a very nice man. You know what we talked about, that in order to keep you and Kelly safe we're going to have to live a new life, that no one can know who we were?" Diana nods.

"It's important that everyone know that we're a happily married couple. Do you know what that means?"

"It means Nick's your husband," Diana says, not sounding happy about it.

"Yes, it means David's my husband," Adalind corrects. "His name's David now. And I'm his wife. And a husband and wife live together and share things, like last names, and hugs, and kisses… a house, and a room."

Diana looks at her for a long moment. "Pretending?"

"Pretending to be husband and wife, but as far as being in love…No, Diana, we're not pretending. I told you before I loved Nick, and I love you, and Kelly, of course, but I would very much love to _not_ pretend to be husband and wife, but to be real husband and wife. I'm in love with Nick, not just pretending to be in love with David. I know it's confusing, but I'm sensing that you're uncomfortable with that. Do you want to talk about it?" she prompts gently.

"Nick's not my daddy."

"No, he's not," she agrees carefully. "David's not your daddy either. Is that what's bothering you? You think Nick's trying to replace your dad?"

"David," Diana corrects, and Adalind rolls her eyes.

"Yes," she says. "Do you?"

"If he's married to you and he's Kelly's daddy, then doesn't that make him my daddy?" Diana points out. "He's not my daddy."

"If you don't want him to be," Adalind says carefully. She has no idea what Nick's thoughts are on being Diana's father, anyway, but he seems to accept her, whatever his misgivings. "No one, not Nick, or David, or anyone else, is going to replace your dad, but I want you to promise me you'll give Ni-David," she stutters, shaking her head, "a real chance. For me, because I'm your mom and I love you, and I love him and I want us all to be happy together."

"Because David makes you happy," Diana repeats.

"He does. Nick-They both do. God, this is confusing," Adalind admits, smiling at Diana ruefully. "We're all going to have to get used to being known as different people, but nothing's changed in how I feel about you and your brother, and Nick, and I want to know that you're okay with us embracing who we are now. Give him a chance, Diana, he's worth it."

Diana nods reluctantly. "Okay."

"Good."

%%%%%

They pick up Nick and drive home. Diana says little to him, other than a cursory greeting, leaving Adalind to wonder if things are going to be okay. She gives Diana instructions to keep an eye on Kelly as she follows Nick up the stairs to the loft and watches him sort out the materials he was issued. One is his uniform, three pairs of dark green pants and three matching shirts, a thick jacket in the same color, all with the embroidered patch representing he's now a Fish and Game warden.

"So, what is it you'll be doing, exactly?" Adalind asks him, realizing for all her push for him to take the job, she's not really sure what all it entails.

"Enforcing the fish and game laws. Making sure no one's poaching, that sort of thing."

"Right, so if someone is do you arrest them?"

"Yeah, if anyone's breaking any law, technically it's within my purview to arrest them."

"All while wearing your spiffy uniform," Adalind comments, and Nick makes a face in response. "What?"

"I look like a dork in uniform," he says with a sigh, and she smiles.

"I bet you look handsome," she counters.

"I look like a dork," he retorts. Her mind flashes to an image of Nick, in a cop uniform like Wu's. He's been plainclothes for as long as she's known him, and she's kind of sorry she didn't get to see those formative years when he first joined the force.

She moves closes enough where she can slip her arms around his neck, forcing him to stop fiddling with his gear. "You could try it on for me and I can give you my opinion," she suggests.

"Unbiased, no doubt," he says, but there's a hint of a smile and she's pleased after weeks of growing distance he's teasing her.

"Of course," she agrees.

"I'd hate to spoil the surprise. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Monday," he tells her, disentangling himself from her embrace to gather up the pistol he was issued. He checks the slide, and the safety, and looks around for a place to store it where young hands won't have access to it. She hears Diana and Kelly playing below, Kelly's baby giggles as Diana entertains him. She glances over the rail and sees several pieces of their meager belongings floating in the air as Kelly watches them, enraptured.

"I had a talk with Diana," Adalind announces to Nick suddenly.

"Oh, yeah?" he says distractedly. "What about?"

"Well, several things. How we're going to have to start going by our new identities, for one," she tells him and he nods, partially listening. "What she thinks of our new home, and Whitefish in general, that sort of thing. Us."

"Us?" he says when the comment catches up to him.

"Yes, you and I."

"What about you and I?" he parrots and Adalind's brow narrows in annoyance.

"Our pretending to be husband and wife," and Nick's expression narrows in confusion. "You know, that husbands and wives share things, like last names, and toothbrushes, and affection…and bedrooms. And even though we're pretending to be married, that doesn't mean we don't really love each other, and want to be together." She looks at him, waiting for his response.

"Do you use my toothbrush?" Nick asks.

"Nick!" she says, exasperated.

"You told her you loved me?"

"Yes."

"And how did she take that?"

Adalind chooses her words carefully. "She want's me to be happy, and she knows I'm happy with you."

"Doesn't seem like she wants us together, though," Nick points out.

"She's a child," Adalind reminds him.

"Yeah, a very powerful, hexenbiest child."

"She's still a child, who wants what all children want: for their mom and dad to be together."

"And when that doesn't happen?"

"I asked her to give you a chance. Give _us_ a chance. No one's going to replace the fact that Sean is her dad, no matter how much I love you, but I want us to be happy, and be a real family, and I think we can be if we all just give each other the opportunity. Give her a chance, too, Nick. For me," she adds, hoping that will convince him.

He nods after a moment, and Adalind slips her arms back around him, and this time he reciprocates more readily. She holds onto Nick for a long time, glad to be back in his arms and he holds her, burying his nose in her hair for a moment, breathing her in, before resting his chin on top of her head. They stay like that until they hear Diana carefully ascending the steps before breaking away. They both turn to see Diana carrying Kelly on her hip.

"Kelly's hungry," she tells them, which Adalind has learned to interpret it means Diana's hungry as well.

"Better feed him then," Nick says to Adalind with a raise of his eyebrows. "You know how Kelly gets if he doesn't get fed," he adds ominously, and she thinks this is a subtle tease at Diana, who has gotten admittedly cranky when she's missed a meal or two.

"I'll take him down," she says, holding out her arms for her son, and Diana hands over Kelly and looks at what Nick's doing. "There's my handsome guy," Adalind coos and is rewarded with a smile from her son, showing off some newly acquired teeth.

"Is that for your new job?" Diana asks looking at the things Nick's going through, and Nick looks up and smiles, catching Adalind's eye.

"Yeah, I start Monday," he tells her as Adalind gives both of them a warm smile and heads down the stairs, listening to them talk while she finds some food for Kelly to eat.

"Are you nervous?"

"No, not really," Nick says, and Adalind supposes after everything that's been thrown at him as a Grimm, being a game warden maybe isn't all that different. "Maybe a little," she hears when she reaches the kitchen.

"You'll be fine," Diana offers.

"Did you have a good trip into town with your mom," she hears Nick ask her.

"Yeah. We talked about you."

"So I hear," Nick mutters.

"I'm supposed to start calling you David now."

"Yeah, I suppose it's time we start going by our new identities. Are you okay with that?" he asks her and Adalind holds her breath.

"I guess," Diana replies.

"We need to be very careful that we don't call each other by anything other than our new names," Nick tells her. "It's important for yours and Kelly's safety and that of your mom. We don't want anything to happen to you and your brother."

"I know," Diana replies a little more confidently.

"Your mom and I need to talk about what we're going to do for your schooling," Nick says and Adalind looks up at the loft, but she can't see Nick or Diana from where she's standing. "If you'll stay here and be schooled at home or if you'll go to a public school, like I did when I was a kid. I was always the new kid in school."

"Why?"

"My aunt and I, we moved around a lot when I was a kid."

"You didn't live with mommy Kelly?"

"No, I mean, I did at first. My mom had to go away for a long time when I was twelve. I thought she died in a car accident with my dad. Some people tried to hurt her and she was afraid they'd try to hurt me, so she sent me away with my aunt, who raised me."

"Like my mommy sent me away with your mommy," Diana tells him, and Adalind feels something squeeze tight around her heart.

"Sort of. You know she didn't want to, though, right?" Nick says quietly, and Adalind wishes she could see her daughter. She doesn't know if the silence that follows that statement means she's nodding or shrugging or not acknowledging Nick's remarks at all. "She loved you very much and she was worried that some bad people might try to use you or hurt you. She missed you terribly. She would have done anything to have you back with her," and again there's silence, leaving Adalind to wonder if Diana nods that she knows this, or if she's just not saying anything.

"Did you miss your daddy?" she asks him and Adalind stiffens. This time the silence is on Nick's end and she can imagine him stumbling on how to answer.

"It was...tough," Nick finally says. "I missed him, a lot. He was always gone a lot when I was growing up, working, but we always—baseball, we always loved baseball, it was kind of our thing. I used to play it when I was younger and we'd always go to games in the city and stuff."

"I miss my daddy," Diana tells him.

"I know you do."

"Hey guys," Adalind calls up breathlessly. "What would you like me to fix for dinner? Or maybe..." she drawls, trying to build suspense and take their focus away from Sean, "in celebration of you starting your new job Monday, we could go out?"

Diana looks excited by this prospect, peering over the edge of the railing down at her mother, and Adalind's glad she's pulled her attention away from the fact that she's growing up without her father, because of her mother and Nick's decision. She doesn't need any lingering, or festering resentment because of that.

"Maybe pizza?" she suggests and Diana looks further enthused as Nick frowns, appearing into view.

"We should probably conserve money-" he begins, always his foremost concern, especially since they're down to their last dollars until Nick gets paid.

"Oh, what is it for a pizza? Twenty bucks?"

"And the gas to get there?" Nick counters and Adalind rolls her eyes. "Not to mention we'll be exposed, Adalind," he adds quietly.

"You can't expect us to stay locked in here forever, Nick. We've been cooped up in the cabin too long. Let's get out and get something to eat. You like pizza?" she asks her daughter and Diana bobs her head yes enthusiastically. Adalind looks at Nick. "Come on, Nick," she wheedles.

"David," Diana corrects helpfully, and Nick glances at her.

"Come on, David," Adalind says. "You don't want to disappoint your wife on our first official night of marital bliss?"

"Technically we've been married for over two weeks."

"According to the marriage certificate, we've been married longer than that. It's about time you started holding up your end of the marriage," Adalind tells him.

"What have you been doing?" he counters. "Besides using my toothbrush?"

"Yuck," Diana says.

"Thank you," Nick tells her.

"Will you get over your toothbrush. Diana, grab your coat," she tells her daughter and Diana skips past Nick and down the stairs, thumping down them as fast (and loudly) as possible.

"Adalind," Nick says quietly, as Adalind adjusts her hold on Kelly and climbs up the steps to Nick.

"This will be good for us, go out and be a family. We have to act like we've got nothing to hide, that there's nothing suspicious about us. There's something suspicious about a family that hides up in the mountains and never comes down."

"We should really save the money, Adalind."

"Yeah," she agrees, "we probably should, but tonight, we're not going to. We're going to go out and enjoy ourselves. I"m tired of eating off the floor," she adds, and Nick sighs in resignation. "It will be good, I promise," Adalind says.

"Fine," he relents.

%%%%%

Almost two months ago they were driving out of Portland, she thinks, on their way to a destination yet unknown, or conveyed, anyway, to Adalind and now they were going to sit down in their first public appearance as the Johnson family.

She can't believe how quickly the time has gone by.

Despite her assurances, she's just as nervous as Nick is about being out and about in public. They still don't own a TV, and the last place that had one was the hotel in Idaho, and she never turned it on afraid of what she might see, and she was too tired to watch it anyway, so she has no idea if she or Nick have been on the news. She has no idea if they found the cop's body and his car, either, but Nick has been quietly checking the papers whenever possible, and he says he hasn't seen anything.

Nick's wearing his sunglasses, and of course at night, indoors, the look attracts a lot of attention. She almost wants to tell him to take them off, but a Grimm catching a Wesen off guard would attract even more attention so she bites her lip and looks down at her menu. Nick's carefully casing the place in that way he has about him, unable to deny his instincts to study his surroundings.

Diana babbles on about something, the restaurant's décor, as Adalind tries to appear like she's paying attention, but she's looking at everyone carefully, trying to determine if anyone is looking at them with something more than cursory interest.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asks when she appears at their table. She gives Nick and his Ray-bans a funny look and he smiles at her congenially.

Adalind places their order as the waitress turns to Nick, who's dealing with a fussy Kelly.

"And what would you like to drink, sir?"

"What do you have?"

"It's right here on—oh, oh, I'm sorry. Can he not see?" she asks Adalind in a loud whisper.

"Yes, he can see," Nick answers, "he can also hear."

"He just has a light sensitivity thing with his eyes," Adalind explains. "He has to wear the sunglasses."

"Oh," the waitress replies, and looks back at him curiously and Adalind's starting to think Nick may have been right about staying home a little longer.

"Water's fine," Nick says, and Adalind suspects he's just going with whatever is the cheapest option, and whatever will rid him of their waitress fastest.

"Okay, I'll get your order right up."

"Thank you," Adalind says. "That was rude," she says to Nick.

"I thought so, too, I mean, what if I _was_ blind? I can still hear what she's saying."

Adalind rolls her eyes and lets it drop, making faces at Kelly when he looks at her, trying to make like this is a normal night out with her family, and that they do this all the time. The waitress brings some crayons for Diana, who looks offended to be considered someone young enough to still be coloring with them. Adalind takes them with a thank you, and sets them on the table between them.

The poor waitress is two for two in offending the Johnsons.

It's incredible to think that three years ago Adalind was giving birth to the young girl who is now sitting beside her, and she worries what the next year will bring, if by then she'll be a teenager, and a year after that, an adult? She's not ready to be on her own in two years' time, and Adalind's not ready to give up her daughter again, this time to adulthood. She wonders if there's any way to slow or stop the rapid aging, and wonders where she could even find some information on it.

Would a suppressant work, she wonders, not only to suppress her powers but the growth as well? She shakes her head slightly at the thought, wondering what kind of mother that makes her, to be pondering something like a suppressant on her own daughter.

"You okay?" Nick asks her, and she looks up.

"Uh, yeah, fine, just thinking about things."

"What things?"

"Nothing important. So, you said that you'll be responsible for an area?" she asks him, getting back to the topic of his job and responsibilities.

"Yeah, it's like several hundred or so square miles of mountainside and valley."

"Wow," Adalind says.

"Should be pretty straightforward," Nick adds, and she nods. It sounds boring, and she wonders if Nick thinks so, too. He was a good detective when he worked for the force, and this doesn't sound like it's going to do much in the way of stretching his skills. But then, she reminds herself, this isn't about career advancement, this is about keeping their family together and safe. Raising two children away from all the craziness of their lives, Nick's especially.

She wonders how the precinct is getting along. How Hank and Wu are doing, what people think of Nick's disappearance and all the allegations surrounding him. She thinks of Rosalee and misses her friend deeply, and wonders if Rosalee is missing her. She wonders if the scoobies are safe in Portland, and she can imagine Sean's anger at being outmaneuvered by Nick and what that probably means for their friends.

There's still some parts of Nick's recount of the days leading up to her rescue that don't make sense, that Nick's been glib about, or just plain vague, and she ponders why that might be. They haven't had a chance to go through it again, the last few weeks a blur of fleeing in cars, and motels, and cabins, and bodies, and then a nerve-wracking trek to procure documents, and then finding a place to settle down and live and two children to care for in all the spaces in between.

"What's that?" Diana asks, looking at something behind Nick. Adalind leans over and Nick turns around to see what she's looking at.

"An arcade game," Nick says, turning back to her. "You play them for fun." The game in question is skee-ball.

"Do you know how to play?" Diana asks him and Nick nods.

"Maybe Ni—David," Adalind manages to correct herself, "Can show you how to play?" Both Nick and Diana look at Adalind in mild alarm.

"Sure," Nick says. "If you want," he adds to Diana and after another look at her mother Diana nods reluctantly.

"I'll keep an eye on Kelly," Adalind says, and Nick stands up from his seat and steps back to allow Diana to precede him to the game area. Adalind scoots over in the booth where she can watch her daughter and Nick better.

He's so good with children, she thinks as she watches him interact with Diana, it's very natural for him, though Nick had been a stereotypically nervous new father. It made her feel better, actually, to know he was just as lost as she was when it came to Kelly and raising a child. He had an easy relatability about him, though, that kids seemed to gravitate, too. She watches him explain the concept of the game and then demonstrate with a toss of the ball. She can't tell for sure, but it looks like it goes in the center, and then he offers the next ball to Diana.

The first toss must go wide, because she can see Diana frown, but the next one's obviously better, and the one after that, because her expression changes and she sees Nick smile when she's done. They play a few more rounds before Diana discovers there are other games and moves on to them, dragging Nick with her to demonstrate each one.

"Here you go," the waitress says brightly, placing a piping hot pizza on the table and Adalind offers a smile of thanks and then cranes her neck in the hopes of catching Nick's eye. He keeps looking back every few minutes, checking on her and Kelly, never letting his guard down.

She signals with a jerk of her head the pizza's arrived and Nick says something to Diana and they make their way back to the table, Diana with a big smile on her face.

"I take it you won?" she asks her daughter. "You didn't let him get the best of us like last time?" Diana shakes her head, smirking at Nick, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes a seat on the bench.

"She's a natural," Nick says and Diana graces him with a smile, before grabbing for a slice of pizza.

"Wash your hands," Adalind says, looking around for the bathrooms. "Here, I'll go with you." The instinct is still strong to never let her daughter out of her sight. She doubts she'll ever completely get over the fact that she trusted Sean with her daughter for all of fifteen minutes and her daughter was gone, given away. The current situation they're living in, on the run, hiding out, doesn't help either. She knows Sean's reach can extend far beyond Portland, but she doesn't know how long it will take before his reach will extend here, in the form of spies.

"More pizza for me," Nick says as they stand and Adalind gives him a look.

"There better be some left when I get back."

Dinner is an enjoyable affair, Diana filling it with details about the games she tried and what she liked and didn't like. It allows for both Adalind and Nick to keep an eye on who's around them as she talks. She finishes before the adults and bounces impatiently in her seat.

"Can I go play some more games?" she asks them and Nick looks up and glances around the restaurant warily. Adalind looks over to where she was playing earlier, noting she has a decent eyeline to keep her daughter in sight. It's still on the tip of her tongue to say no. She knows how quickly things can go from peaceful to all hell breaking loose, the possibility that someone could grab Diana and try to run before Adalind could even get to her feet.

"I suppose," is what she says, though, at Diana's pleading look and she ignores the look Nick gives her as she summons a smile for her daughter. "For a little bit. We need to leave before eight."

Diana's up and holding out her hand, and Adalind realizes that, of course, the games cost money.

Money they don't really have, but Nick fishes out his wallet and hands her a few dollars without comment.

"Sorry," Adalind says to him when Diana's out of earshot, and Nick looks up from the pizza slice he's preparing to eat.

"You sure that's wise?" he asks her.

"What? Diana?" she clarifies. "You saw her face, she was so excited to get to do something like play a silly arcade game. When has she ever gotten the chance to just be a kid, Nick? Especially lately?"

Nick looks up at her again and then back at his plate.

"It's good for her to just get the chance to be a kid. She's been so isolated because of who she is and she's missed out on so much. I don't want for her to miss these kind of things."

"She's been so isolated because of _what_ she is," he says. "She needs to learn some impulse control or we're going to have some real problems fast."

Adalind frowns, knowing he has a point, and annoyed that she has to admit it, at least to herself.

"She can do that the more time she spends with us, and the more opportunities she has to just be a kid."

Nick says nothing, either conceding the point or dropping the subject and Adalind pulls her eyes away from his bent head back to her daughter. She can see her at the skee-ball machine, looking like she's enjoying herself and she relaxes a little. Another child, a young boy, maybe a year or two younger than Diana looks, lingers behind her, watching her play, and Adalind's gaze sharpens. A couple of minutes later, Diana turns to the boy as he says something to her and Adalind watches the exchange, trying to ignore the pit forming in her stomach.

Diana needs to learn how to socialize properly, and she'll never get the opportunity if Adalind prevents her from ever having the chance, but she can't shake the need to pull her daughter away from the unsuspecting child in front of her, that has no idea of her pernicious nature at times.

The conversation they have is brief, Diana turning away from him after a minute, with a competitive look in her eye, as she goes back to her game, but the boy hangs around, standing now at her side, watching as she resumes and Adalind's pit widens as she gets a wholly bad feeling as to what may be going on over there.

She glances up, trying to read the scoreboard over the game, but it's hidden from view from where she's sitting. The whole unit, however, is lighting up repeatedly, and Adalind gets the impression that Diana is high-scoring with every toss.

She's using her powers.

She glances at Nick, temporarily occupied with Kelly, and looks back and nonchalantly stands, attracting Nick's attention immediately.

"I'm going to see how Diana's doing, and tell her it's probably time for us to go" she tells him, and Nick nods in understanding, but he doesn't understand, not really, until he looks behind him and spots the boy watching Diana on her amazing scoring run. Even then, he only has part of the story, but Nick was never dumb, and though his immediate concern might be the fact of how she will interact with another person on her own, she doubts it will take him long to start piecing together what Adalind did.

She makes her way to the gaming area, eyes focused on her daughter and the boy, who's watching in amazement and disbelief at every one of Diana's throws that land dead center in the highest scoring ring.

"Diana," she says sharply and reminds herself to moderate her tone when Diana looks up at her. "It's time for us to go now."

"No way!" the boy exclaims, but it's at Diana's performance, not Adalind's remark. "You got lucky. I bet you can't do that again," he says, tauntingly. He's a skinny, tow-headed boy, with a sharp nose and large brown eyes.

Diana swivels slowly away from her mother to look at the boy.

"Say goodbye to your friend and let's get ready to leave," Adalind says, smiling politely at the boy when he looks at her.

"He's not my friend," Diana says and the boy frowns at her.

"Well, either way, we need to leave," Adalind says firmly.

"I still have two more turns," Diana tells her, and Adalind glances at the boy and then at Diana.

"Well, why don't we let him play them so we can get our things and go home." The boy looks excited by this idea, already moving to stand closer to Diana, move her out of the way, but Diana frowns and holds her ground.

"I want to finish my game," she says, and the boy smirks at her. Where are his parents? Adalind wonders, wishing they would collect her son so she can collect her daughter and leave, hopefully without any bloodshed. The boy grabs a ball and brushes her to the side as he makes his toss, one that goes wide, and lands in the lowest scoring ring.

"You're ruining my score," Diana tells him. The boy glances at her, clearly embarrassed about being outdone by the girl beside him. He aims another throw, this one landing in the second-lowest scoring ring and they both watch the monitor tally the score.

"Thank you," Adalind says to him. "We're done. Diana, let's grab our things."

"You were crowding me," The boy tells her and Diana's eyes narrow. Adalind refrains from rolling hers, and also pointing out if anyone was crowding anyone it was the boy with Diana, not the other way around.

"I'll play you another game and we'll see who gets the best score," he taunts.

"I'm afraid we won't be able to do that," Adalind interrupts. "We really have to be going."

The game lights up and then resets, ready for a new challenger, and Adalind realizes that Diana did that telekinetically. In fact, it comes to her that Diana has likely been playing the last few rounds that way, as she can see the game is fifty cents per game and Nick had only given her a few dollars. The boy looks at the game and then glances at Diana suspiciously, but Diana is already grabbing a ball and lining up her shot.

"Diana," Adalind says.

She watches as Diana speedily tosses the balls, each one landing in the center and the boy gapes stupidly as she racks up the points. Diana stands back when she's done, smirking proudly at the boy and he brushes aside whatever misgiving he may be feeling as he reluctantly thumbs two quarters into the machine.

"Stand back this time," he tells her and Diana doesn't move, but she's not that close to him anyway. The boy takes his time, concentrating now that his reputation is on the line, and making careful tosses that land all over the board. He makes one in the second highest scoring ring, but most land in the outliers and when he's done Diana has beaten him by a landslide.

"So what?" the boy says to her. "It's just a dumb game. The machine's probably broken."

"Okay, time to go," Adalind says, placing an arm around her daughter's shoulder trying to guide her away.

"I don't like you," Diana tells the boy.

"Who cares?"

"You're not very nice," she adds ominously and Adalind's heart seizes. _Oh, please, oh, please, don't do anything. Not here._ He opens his mouth to spout off another retort. It hangs open, unfulfilled, though, his eyes widening comically and Adalind knows what he's seeing.

"Diana. That's enough," Adalind says to her firmly, masking the panic she's feeling if she can't get Diana to calm down and comply. Diana flicks lilac-haloed eyes to her. "It's time to go. _Now_. Get your coat." Diana looks at her mother for a long moment, Adalind meeting her stare for stare, and the glow slowly fades. Diana turns away from him, towards Nick and their table and Adalind breathes a sigh of relief that's short-lived when she realizes Nick is standing, holding Kelly and his carrier in one hand and Adalind's and Diana's coats in another.

"You're weird," the boy tells her in a parting shot, and the game flashes, sparks, and sputters. One of the sparks hits the boy who cries out, startled. The game dies a moment later and Adalind and the boy both stare in shock before Adalind regains her senses and ushers her family out the door. Some adults crowd around the boy as they're pushing through.

"She did something! That girl! The one with the weird eyes," she can hear as they leave, and fortunately the door closes before anyone can stop them. She kept her eyes on the path out, so she doesn't know if anyone was looking at them, but they're miles down the road before anyone speaks.

Naturally, it's Diana, who feels the need to speak with her justification for what she did, though Adalind doesn't think she understands that what she was doing was wrong.

"I didn't like him," she says.


	13. Part Three - Chapter Three

AN: I don't know about this chapter. Hmm. You be the judge

%%%%

"That was fun," Nick mutters an hour later as he's putting Kelly to bed in his crib. Diana's taking a bath, strict instruction from Adalind as to when she finishes in there to brush her teeth and then to head straight for bed.

Nick cradles his son gently, transferring him from his shoulder to the mattress, and Adalind stands next to Nick as she watches father and son as they bond. Kelly's getting bigger every day, and every day looking more and more like Nick. His hair and eyes are darkening a bit, and she thinks their son is going to be a mini-me of Nick. She can see a few traits he's inherited from her, her nose, her chin, but he still looks largely like his father, and she wishes she had a picture of Nick as a baby to compare it to.

"He's getting big," Adalind remarks, smoothing a hand over her son's tummy. "I think he's going to be crawling soon." She smiles at her son and coos at him, eliciting a gummy smile from her boy. She's also trying to delay the inevitable conversation about Diana's behavior. It's not working.

"She's erratic."

"She's a child, she doesn't understand, Nick," Adalind tries, but Nick looks at her and her excuses fade away.

"She can't control it, Adalind."

Adalind sighs.

"I know," she says wearily. They keep having the same conversation, but neither has a good plan on what it would take for Diana to control it. "I don't know what else to do, Nick. She hasn't had many good examples in her life. Probably not since your mom died. Lord knows I wasn't a saint when I was her age." But she also had yet to commit multiple murders, too. In fact, at Diana's age, she had yet to commit one. She had yet to come into her powers fully, either.

And she had friends. Not many, but a few. She can remember doing things like birthday parties and sleepovers, and though she reacted at times in the same way, she wants those things for her daughter. Not the loneliness she seems destined for, what with her behavior and abnormal rate of growth.

"My mom always said that Diana was special. That in the hands of the wrong people she could do horrible damage, but in the hands of the right people, she could do great good."

"We're the right people," Adalind assures him, latching on to his comment. "Her family. People who love her and want the best for her."

"I'm not sure if we're going to be enough, Adalind," Nick says, looking at her.

"We're enough," Adalind insists, because she's scared of what that might mean, if they're not. What Nick's not saying. "She liked spending time with you, tonight," Adalind tells him and Nick gives her another look, covering Kelly with the blanket and a kiss. "She did," Adalind insists. She's worried that Nick is starting to think Diana can't be saved, and what that might mean for her daughter, for Adalind herself, so she tries to play her anxiety off. "I mean, you can't honestly tell me after one, tiny, little hexenbiest flare up and you're ready to throw in the towel?"

Nick holds the door for her, waiting for her to precede him so he can shut Kelly's door. Adalind can still hear Diana in the bathroom and wonders what's taking so long.

"I'm not saying that," Nick says, and Adalind looks at him, feeling emotional and immensely relieved. "I'm saying, we may have to look at alternative methods for controlling her powers when she obviously can't."

"Like a suppressant?" Adalind asks him.

"Maybe. Or something that can…diffuse them a little."

"What can do that?" she asks as Nick turns away from her.

"There might be something."

"The only thing that can _diffuse_ a hexenbiest's powers is what you did to me, or a suppressant."

"What I did to you won't work on Diana."

"I know," Adalind says, wondering if he's seriously considering it. She already had Nick's blood in her when she got pregnant, thus his Grimm blood won't have any effect on Diana in that way because of it. "If I knew of anything else that worked don't you think I would have suggested it for Juliette."

"Maybe there's something and you just haven't heard about it," Nick suggests, eyes flicking up to her, before he busies himself with checking the locks and windows.

"I doubt it," Adalind retorts, "but, I suppose it's possible." Though she feels if there were, she'd have heard about it. She knows her mother searched a long time and went through many knowledgeable contacts and books about the subject before her aunt even came across someone who knew about a suppressant and told her about it. She ponders the scenario he's suggesting, wondering what it means that she's considering something like that for her daughter.

That Nick might be right.

"What kind of mother does that make me to be considering something like this?" she asks Nick and he turns to her.

"The kind that wants her daughter to have a chance," he says seriously. "Something like that could mean the possibility of a happy life for Diana. Maybe the closest she'll ever get to a normal one. And maybe a suppressant or something like that would mean that she would only be valuable to the right people, the people that love her for her, not the people who want to use her. Maybe she can be a child for a while," he tells her.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" Adalind asks him. She has, too.

Nick shrugs and then nods. "Crossed my mind if we're going to do this, we might have to get creative. She could have hurt that boy."

"She didn't," Adalind says, but her protest rings hollow.

"No not tonight," Nick agrees. "But who's to say tomorrow? Or the next time she's with someone she doesn't like."

%%%%%

"It doesn't matter if you liked him or not," Adalind says to Diana in her bedroom later that night. Diana's tucked into bed, Adalind beside her as they discuss what happened at the pizzeria. "You used your powers after I specifically told you not to. You risked us being discovered by doing so, and you disobeyed me."

"Why do we have to hide?"

"I told you," Adalind says. "There are some bad people looking for us."

"Why? Are we bad people, too?"

"No, of course not," Adalind says, glad that it's dark in the room and Diana can't see her expression.

"You're lying," Diana says.

Okay, not that it matters if Diana can see her expression or not.

"No-I-We're not bad people, Diana, it's just…I did some bad things I later regretted in life. I hung around some bad people. I hurt some people I came to love and respect dearly and I regret the things I did, and I don't want you to do things that hurt other people that you might someday regret."

"What did you do?"

"Well, lots of things. I lied to people, and manipulated them, and I used my powers to get my way and it wound up having some devastating effects on people I came to care dearly about," she says, thinking of Nick, but also his friends who became her friends. "For a while I didn't have any friends, any people who cared about me, and I really needed one."

"Who did you hurt? Daddy?" She asks, and Adalind hesitates and debates the wisdom of answering honestly.

"I hurt a lot of people, Diana. Your dad—well, it's probably best to say I didn't dish out anything he couldn't handle, but yeah, I suppose I let my emotions get the better of me with him. I hurt Nick," she says. "People he cared about. Friends of his, good people who tried to help me, Monroe and Rosalee, and many, many others. I made some very bad decisions, got in with some very bad people, because I was angry, or hurt, or I didn't like someone." She lets that sink in for a moment before she continues. "There are consequences for everything you do, every rash decision you make, and you need to be aware of how what you do affects others. I didn't have a mother who would tell me what the consequences would be. I didn't have a mother who _cared_ what the consequences would be. That I would regret things I did. She didn't really care about those things, or want what was best for me. She didn't care if I was a good person. I don't want that for you. I want you to be a good person, who does good things for people, and who makes good decisions, and is surrounded by good people that love and respect you, not fear you. Do you understand?"

There's a long silence, Diana digesting everything she's said. Adalind holds her breath and waits, hoping she comes to the right conclusion.

"Is daddy a bad person? You said he's with some bad people. That's why we can't see him."

"Your father…has let his emotions get the better of him, too. The decisions he's making are not good ones."

"Shouldn't we help him?"

"We've tried," Adalind says.

"Shouldn't we try harder? Who's tried?"

"Lots of people. Me. Nick. People your dad works with. He's not in the place to listen right now, so until he is all we can do is keep you from being around the same people. That's why it's so important that no one finds out where we are. You're a very special little girl, and I just want you to be my little girl for a while longer. That's why you should be very careful about when you use your powers, because it will draw attention to us, and it might lead you down a path you can't back away from."

"Okay, mommy," she says quietly.

"Okay," Adalind says, smoothing a hand down Diana's soft, blonde hair. She thinks about what Nick said. That she can't control it and they might have to do something about that. She helps Diana settle back against the pillow and tucks her in under the covers.

"Are you going to stay with me tonight?"

"I can, for a little while, until you go to sleep," Adalind says hesitantly. "Then I'm going upstairs to stay with Nick. You're old enough now you can stay on your own, and Nick needs me, too."

It's after midnight before Adalind climbs the stairs to join Nick. He's curled on his side in the sleeping bag, and he doesn't say anything when he opens his eyes to find Adalind standing over him. Just sighs and unzips the sleeping bag. She stares down, contemplating what she should do, if she should give in to the part of her that is desperate to erase the distance between them. She aches to be with him, to make love to him, and have him return her affection. Decision made, she slips out of her nightgown, then her underwear and slips inside the sleeping bag. She stares up at him in the darkness, able to just make out his dark features, the sharp, aristocratic nose she's admired and the arched brows, arching higher as he watches her undress and then slides into the sleeping bag next to him.

A moment later her mouth is on his, and soon his hands are roaming over her body, pinching a nipple, sliding lower, before the other hand pulls away from her hair and palms a breast. The sleeping bag is rapidly gaining heat, and soon she's sweating, and Nick too, as he fumbles to remove his clothing in the tight confines. He manages with some help to get his underwear down, and then his shirt off as Adalind reaches a hand between them and strokes him firmly. He shifts so he can maneuver under her and she unzips the bag some more and pushes back the top layer of the bag to straddle him. His eyes glitter in the darkness, lingering over her shoulder, and collarbone, her breasts, and her taut nipples before gliding lower, where they're soon to be joined. She settles herself carefully over him and eases down, closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of him inside her, reveling in the way he fills her. It's been so long, she thinks. She savors him for a moment, before he impatiently moves against her and Adalind opens her eyes and feels her lips curl up in a smile.

She rides him slowly, steadily, Nick helping to meet her thrust for thrust, and it feels so good, being like this again with him. He leans up on his elbows, and she bends down, her hair fanning around them as they meet in a kiss. Nick smooths her hair back with his fingers, staring into her eyes, before they roam about her face, trailing down, and he moves a hand to toy with her breasts again, making them tingle. She arches her back, allowing him to feel more of her and takes him deep and she groans, Nick inhaling sharply with the sensation.

"I missed you," she breathes and Nick finds her mouth again. Tomorrow he'll go to work as David Johnson and she'll be his wife Addison, but tonight they're still Nick and Adalind, lovers against all logic and odds, and she opens her eyes again to find him staring into hers. He slips a hand between them, bumping against her as she rolls her hips against him and finds what he's looking for. She stills for a moment, letting his fingers play against her, before she begins moving again. Nick brings her to release and she rides through it, enjoying the sensation of being one with him as she works to bring him to a peak. They can't stop staring at one another, the feeling more intense, as she threads her fingers through Nick's and braces herself against him as she rides him. She holds his gaze as they thrust, feeling her body coil at the emotion she sees in his eyes. She feels her body tightening and Nick feels it too, the thrusting becoming more erratic as he moves against her. They don't take their eyes away from each other, though it's starting to take effort to keep them open, as she feels the pressure building inside her, begging for her release. It's so intense, that when she finally reaches orgasm Nick's eyes blacken and she realizes she woged.

She's horrified, as Nick is finally overcome with his own release and closes his eyes. He empties himself inside her and collapses back, banging his head on the floor as he tries to catch his breath. She gets control of herself again, human features sliding back into place, her body trembling, whether from the intensity of their coupling or what just transpired a moment ago. He opens his eyes, and slides a palm over her cheek, before his other hand joins, cupping her face and he leans forward and kisses her, softly. She's not sure what to do, so she tips forward, collapsing on top of him, and he lays back down, breathing heavily as she buries her head against his chest where he can't see her face and her embarrassment. It's one thing for him to know what she is, it's another for him to be reminded of it, while they're having sex, that he's basically fucking a corpse.

She listens to his heart, steady as though he'd been sleeping, and not giving her the ride of his life. She feels his hand on her sweat-slickened back, and shivers with the chill she suddenly feels.

"Are you cold?" he asks, noticing, always noticing things, and he fumbles clumsily for a second or two and a moment later the top of the sleeping bag is folded over her.

"Thank you," she murmurs into his chest, not sure what else to say.

"God I needed that," he says with a breathy sigh.

"Are we going to talk about what just happened?" Adalind asks two minutes later, because dammit if she can't just leave it alone.

"Talk about what?" he asks and she frowns.

"What just happened," she repeats.

"Which part? The part where I made you come twice, or that the second time when I made you come so hard you woged." He sounds suspiciously smug as he recounts this. Adalind pulls away so she can see his expression and he meets her look in the darkness with an arrogant smile.

"The second time," she says, not believing her eyes.

"Your welcome," Nick says and now she can't believe her ears. He looks wholly self-satisfied that he's left her flummoxed, too, at this, as his smile widens.

"Okay, let's not let this go to your head," Adalind says, laying her head back down on his chest, feeling slightly giddy and confused that he's unbothered by what happened. That he's proud of it.

"Too late for that. Has that ever happened before?" he asks.

"Not with a Grimm," she says, hoping her answer doesn't ruin the mood. Woging like that is rare, even during Wesen couplings, but it has happened. Adalind can think of one or two instances where she'd lost control of herself for a second. "Of course, you're the first and only Grimm I've slept with."

"Let's keep it that way." He's quiet for a minute, fingers still stroking light circles across her back. It's nice. Soothing. "I feel like I need to write this down somewhere," he says.

She flips her head back up and gives him a look.

"What? I feel like it's noteworthy. I wish I had my Grimm books. I could add some notes to one of the entries: Grimm made a hexenbiest orgasm so hard she woged in pleasure."

"Okay, get over yourself," Adalind tells him and Nick grins cockily. Actually, he's kind of adorable like this, and Adalind's content to let him have his moment for a little while longer before she asks. "Am I in your Grimm books?"

"You were," Nick says.

"Were? Oh, right, they were destroyed," she says, remembering, and regretting bringing it up.

"Juliette made sure to burn that one first, I think."

"Hmm, I bet," she agrees, hoping they can get off the subject of Juliette quickly. "So, what did you write about me?"

"You were already in the book. Aunt Marie had sketched a picture of you."

"Ah, good ol' aunt Marie."

"I recognized it from that first time I saw you woge."

"When you were staring at me?"

"Because you were woged."

"Because you stared at me. You were looking at me first."

"Whatever," he says and she smiles. "Anyway, she had some information written about you, like a wesen profile. I added a few things to it over the years."

"Hmm. I can imagine," she says, thinking back over their complicated history. She wonders what Nick's aunt would say if she knew how things would turn out between Nick and the hexenbiest she wrote about. That they would share a son, a love, between them. Would she be disappointed in her nephew or happy that he found contentment?

Disappointment, probably. She did, after all, try to kill his aunt when she was in the hospital. She almost killed Nick a few times, too. She doubts aunt Marie would be thrilled to know her nephew had taken up with the enemy. Actually, aunt Marie would have likely been successful in killing Adalind where Nick wasn't. It would probably all be a moot point.

Nick shrugs, when she voices this thought aloud.

"I don't know," he says, surprising her. "Maybe she might be more understanding than we think. She was involved with a Steinadler before my parents died."

"What?"

"Yeah, broke things off with him so she could take care of me. At least that's what he claims."

"You believe him?" she asks him after Nick finishes telling her the story.

"Yeah, I do. There's just too many things he knows that I don't think he could unless he knew her."

"Wow," she says. "Do you think it happens often?" She asks Nick. He looks down at her, confused. "Grimms, crossing party lines, so to speak?" Nick shakes his head.

"I don't know. I've never come across an entry about a Grimm and a Wesen having a relationship, or ever heard about any stories about someone admitting they had one. Aunt Marie never even mentioned she was engaged to anyone. There's no entries about Grimms and Wesen having children together, either."

"Get the feeling it's frowned upon?"

"I don't think it's something that's encouraged, no, but I can't believe that you and I, and my aunt and Kolt, are the only ones who have ever felt this way in the hundreds of years that Grimms and Wesen have been around each other."

"Probably no one speaks of it," Adalind says. "Given what Grimms are and do, I imagine that those who go against what the others think is the natural order are hunted down and killed. Same for any half-breed children," she adds, suppressing a shiver when she thinks of Kelly, and Nick cranes his head and looks at her. "Pollutes the bloodlines."

Nick shakes his head.

"Wesen are the same way. You know there's many that don't believe in intermingling like Monroe and Rosalee have. Believe me, the concept isn't as foreign as it sounds."

"It sounds stupid."

"That's because you're a very forward thinking Grimm," she says, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips. The anomaly that is Nick, to be a Grimm and surrounding himself, voluntarily, with two Hexenbiests. To have children with one. To think nothing of it.

"Is that what they call me?" he asks. He's quiet for a long moment, hand still tracing lightly along her back. "Actually, I'm just a fish and game warden with a photosensitivity issue and a beautiful wife and two children, trying to carve out a quiet living here in the woods." She feels a thrill at his admission, that he thinks she's beautiful. He can be very demonstrative at times of his feelings, but he rarely speaks aloud of how he feels about her. Usually she's the one who puts herself out there, verbally and physically. She wishes he would tell her he loves her more, but what he doesn't say he's very good at showing.

"You really think this is going to work?" Adalind asks him. "That we can do this?" He's quiet for a long time.

"It's not going to be easy. I really think we're going to have to look at something with Diana, but I'm not sure if it will work like we think it will, anyway. If we can keep any more bodies from turning up, and we can keep a low profile, I think we've got a real chance, yeah."

"I still don't know on a suppressant."

"Do we even know any not recently-dead Hexenbiests here?" Nick points out and Adalind shakes her head. "We don't even have access to one of the key ingredients."

"I'll see if I can find any books."

"Be careful. Let's not start nosing around for things that attract people's attention. Let's just try to work with her and keep her away from the general population until we're sure she's got better control of her emotions."

"Okay," she agrees, relieved that they're not going to consider drastic and dangerous measures so soon. She would still like to work with her daughter without having to resort to potions or spells on her. She doesn't think Diana will take it well, either, her mother wanting to do something like that to her anyway. Nick shifts, and Adalind moves to slide off him, though the space is so tight she still winds up half-lying on top of him.

"There's still not a lot of room in here," Nick says to her, turning on his side.

"Would you like me to leave?" She snarks, as she does the same, wrestling with the bag so he can spoon against her.

"Well, you're already here. Naked. Seems a shame to waste that."

"You didn't, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," he agrees gleefully and Adalind rolls her eyes. A hand slides down her side, resting on her hip, before finding a home between her legs and she wonders if he can make her come undone a third time. Has no doubt he's up to the task.

"Nick," she murmurs.

"David," he reminds her gently.

"You'll always be Nick when you're doing that to me. David could never make a Hexenbiest woge with pleasure. He doesn't even know what one is, remember?"

"I bet he could give it a run for his money."

"You have to be up in four hours," she reminds him, and he sighs disappointedly and pulls his hand away. Adalind tries to quell her own disappointment. She regrets saying anything to discourage him, but she doesn't want him to be tired his first day on the job.

"Next Friday when you get paid, the first thing we're getting is a bed for up here," Adalind tells him, as she feels the cold press of the floor against her hip. She doesn't know how he's been doing this night after night, no complaints. Of course, it's Nick, so she supposes it's to be expected. He deals with a lot of things without complaining. "No arguments," she adds, but he hasn't protested and she thinks maybe he's tired of sleeping on the floor, too. Besides, if they're going to be doing more of that, she'd prefer a layer of mattress between her and the floor and more room to work. All they need is the mattress, really, and maybe the frame. They need other things, too, but if they're going to carve out a life together, in the middle of nowhere, then they need to carve out the time and resources to make it a good one.

"Fine," he sighs drowsily and she wonders if he really even heard her.

She spends the rest of the night with his body curled against hers, his nose in her hair, one arm slung possessively around her, listening as his breaths even out into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	14. Part Three - Chapter Four

AN: Thank you for your kind words on the last chapter. Was really unsure how it would received, so glad everyone seemed to think it was okay, and hope it didn't turn too many off from the story.

%%%%

He comes awake slowly, aware Adalind has said something.

"Hmm?"

"Nick, your alarm is going off."

"Okay," he murmurs, going back to sleep. If there was a threat or danger she'd sound more emotional some part of his brain helpfully supplies. He snuggles deeper into the nest of formerly golden hair, his hand gliding up a soft, warm, stomach, encountering a warm, plump breast. An idea starts forming and he pulls her tighter against him, testing it. She wriggles enticingly. Something's beeping in the background annoyingly, but he ignores it in favor of the warm, sexy woman he's holding in his arms.

"Nick!" Adalind says sharply, and he opens his eyes again. "Your alarm. Today's your first day of work."

Oh, right.

That's the annoying beep. The alarm on his watch. He sighs as he comes more awake, taking in the fact he's spooned tightly against a naked Adalind in the confines of his sleeping bag. He looks at his watch, still beeping persistently and he wrestles a numb arm out from under Adalind's head to shut it off.

He lays there for a moment, gathering his wits, before he fights against the bag, Adalind grunting as he knocks into her, when she motions with her arm and telekinetically unzips the zipper enough so he can climb out. He struggles to his feet, joints cracking with every move.

Jesus, when did he get so old?

His body aches from lying in an uncomfortable position on the floor all night, though really, he hasn't found a comfortable one yet in the nights he's slept there. Some of the aches aren't because of slumbering on a hard surface, and he smirks a little, remembering last night with Adalind.

"Stop smiling," Adalind says, watching him, but she's smiling a little, too. "I know what you're thinking."

"A nice start to my morning?" he suggests because that's exactly what he's thinking, looking down at her, hair fanned out messily around her, cleavage visible before she snuggles deeper into the bag.

"You can't be late for work. It's your first day," she reminds him and she's right. He sighs disappointedly at the missed opportunity for some delightful morning sex. He grabs the uniform he's to wear as a fish and game warden and his work boots and heads down the stairs to shower. When he gets out of the bathroom, Adalind's dressed in her nightgown again and rummaging in the kitchen.

Addison, he reminds himself. Addy, his wife. He's never once called her anything but Adalind (except maybe that time or two, or ten he referred to her as that bitch that ruined his whole life). He sobers, thinking about the progression of their relationship, how complicated and twisted it all was—is—that it should end up with them here like this. On the run, sharing a cabin in the woods and two children, because he can't live without her now.

He tries out Addy silently, then Addison again, and looks at Adalind, knowing nothing will ever fit her, and his complex feelings for her, as perfectly as those three syllables.

But that's Nick Burkhardt's feelings, influenced by his complicated life and history with her as a Grimm.

David Johnson's feelings are not complicated. He loved Addison enough to marry her, and as his wife it really shouldn't be any big deal to call her by an appellation. Addy. Sweetheart, baby, honey, all of them just sound _wrong_ and insincere when he thinks of them in connection to Adalind.

It occurs to him, not for the first time obviously, but maybe for the first time the extent of how difficult it will be to start this new life with new identities, so wholly foreign to their original ones.

"Do you want some breakfast?" Adalin—Addison, asks him and he flashes a smile and shakes his head. There's no place to eat it anyway, except the floor, or standing up. He takes a seat on one of the stairs, the only place to sit, and puts on his socks and work boots. The uniform's made of a heavy, durable, and rather uncomfortable material, but it's new, and Nick supposes after a few washings it won't feel so scratchy. Still, he feels self-conscious in it, aware something about it doesn't fit quite right, and he wonders if it's a metaphor for everything else in his life right now.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you look pretty damn sexy in uniform," Adal—Addison. _Addison, Addison, Addison_ , tells him. She's looking him over slowly, reverently, as though he's something she might like to devour.

"I'm kind of looking forward to tonight, when I can help get you _out_ of uniform," she says mischievously and Nick raises an eyebrow at her. "When I can finally corrupt a nice, young, upstanding officer of the law. Or at least the Park service."

"You've been corrupting officers since the day I met you," Nick tells her.

"I never got the chance to corrupt you," she reminds him, though he's not sure if that's exactly true. He can remember the reactions to some of her words, how angry they made him, yes, but the other reactions they elicited, too. Attraction. Excitement. The thrill of the challenge that Adalind always represented. Things he's hardly ever admitted to himself and definitely not to anyone else. In some ways, it's was inevitable that they end of like this. They always had a certain kind of chemistry together, electricity that crackled between them every time they faced off to one another.

"You had plenty of chances, as I recall. Just none of them worked."

"Disappointed?" she asks lightly, though the subject matter is far heavier than either one is making it out to be.

"A little," he admits, to both their surprise.

"Would the honorable Detective Burkhardt really have taken advantage of me if I gave him the opportunity?"

"Maybe," he says and her eyebrows raise. Most likely not, it's true, but there's that part of him that wonders, too.

"Well now I wish I had tried harder," she says.

"If you tried any harder one or both of us would probably be dead," he points out. Maybe _maybe_ is a bit of a stretch, given everything she'd done, but he doesn't know, in the heat of the moment, immersed in anger and frustration if she'd given him another outlet for it that he wouldn't have taken it. Their entire relationship defied all logic.

"You know, I told you under different circumstances you and I could really have had some fun."

"We're having fun now, aren't we?" Nick says waving a hand around them. The sparse cabin, buried in the woods, with who knows what looking for them.

"We had fun last night," she counters seductively. He remembers her woging and feels something churn deep in his chest. A strange feeling. That thrill again. The sense of the predator who has bested his prey. Except she's more than that to him.

She leans in, hovering over him for a kiss, and he turns his face up to meet her, reminding himself that David would accept, and give, affection readily to his wife. He pulls her down into his lap, Adalind's expression reflecting the surprise she feels at this sudden exhibition of affection from him.

"Are you and the kids going to be okay without me?" he asks her, nuzzling against the side of her face, because, he tells himself, David would nuzzle against his wife, wouldn't hesitate to show affection to her. He plants a kiss against the side of her head and wraps his arms around her and Adalind returns the gesture as she leans against him for a moment.

"Of course. Hexenbiest, remember?" she says lightly, but there's no forgetting that. It's one of the things that makes leaving her alone with his children more palatable, the fact that she's hardly defenseless, and as a Hexenbiest she's very skilled at handling any threats that may come her way. Still, everything he values in this world is right here in this cabin and it's unsettling to leave it, especially when he's not sure if Renard is still looking for him, or anyone else for that matter.

"We'll be okay," she promises.

"You got everything you need, right?" he asks her, because he'll be taking the jeep, and she's stuck here with no means of transportation should something happen, and that unsettles him, too. What if Kelly or Diana gets hurt and needs medical treatment? They're so far out into the boonies that an ambulance might get there too late.

"Yeah, we'll be fine. Oh, how 'bout some coffee?" she asks him, and he nods, reluctantly releasing her so she can bounce up and hurry to the carafe. He hears a noise from the direction of the children's rooms and then Kelly fussing as he comes awake and aware, before he cries.

"Ah, Kelly's awake," he announces and Adalind smiles wryly. "I'll change him," he volunteers, although really, it's routine by now. Even when they were living at the loft, Nick was always the one who changed him first thing in the morning while Adalind readied a bottle for him.

"Okay," she says.

He greets his son quietly, Kelly pausing for breath to see who answered his calls, before wriggling insistently and resuming his cries.

"It's not that bad," Nick soothes. "Daddy's here. He'll change you," he promises, although apparently it is that bad, because Kelly's cries only intensify. He's almost done putting a new diaper on when he realizes he's got a visitor in the room with him.

"Morning," he says to Diana, managing not to jump in surprise when she comes up beside him quietly. Diana telekinetically moves some objects on top of the bureau-slash-changing table and Kelly quiets immediately, watching in rapture as she swirls them above his head.

"Thank you," Nick says, picking his son up and holding him close. He's so thankful he can hold his son in his arms again. He missed him terribly when Kelly was gone, like a part of him had been cleaved from his body.

"He missed you, too," Diana announces, and Nick looks at her, trying to mask the unease he feels at her being able to read his thoughts so easily. Another wave of discomfort washes over him as he thinks about some other thoughts he's had, most about her mother, and turns away to grab something, in case his eyes are the windows to his soul, or some other nonsense like that.

He latches onto a lone toy, a stuffed fox from Rosalee that Kelly's had since they brought him home from the hospital. He wonders how his friends are doing, if they've given up looking for them, and hopes things in Portland are okay without him.

He tells himself they have to be, because he's not going back. He can't go back. He's not a Grimm anymore, he's a father and a husband with responsibilities at home to take care of. Trubel and Eve can help everyone handle things he tells himself firmly.

"You miss your friends," Diana says, uncannily in line with his thoughts.

"Can you—Are you—" he starts, and she stares up at him, waiting for him to continue. "Can you read people's thoughts?" he asks her, wondering if he needs to start policing the things that go through his mind when he's looking at her mother. Or her, because some of the things he's been thinking, about stripping her of her powers, probably wouldn't be well received if she knew the half of it.

"No," she says, and he breathes out slowly, in relief. "Not really," and he tenses again. "Sometimes I can sense something inside a person," she tells him.

"And you sense Kelly missed me?"

She nods.

"And you miss your friends," she says. He nods, because he's not sure what else to do in the face of this somewhat unsettling knowledge she has.

"I do," he admits, "But they'll be okay."

"You don't really believe that," she says to him, but fortunately, Adal—he's got to stop thinking of her like that-Addison interrupts, holding out a mug of coffee.

"There's my handsome guy," she coos to Kelly who smiles widely at his mother, before fussing, apparently letting on in his baby speak all the ways Nick's lacking in getting him together this morning. "I bet you're hungry, huh?" she says, taking her son when Nick offers him and cradling him in her arms. She had been ready to wean him from breastfeeding before she left Nick, but due to their limited supplies and situation, that's been put off for the time being. He doesn't think Kelly's saddened by the fact.

Given how perfect her breasts are, Nick certainly wouldn't be sad for the extended opportunity to admire them, though he concedes Kelly probably has a different view of them than Nick does. He takes a sip of his coffee before remembering Diana's still standing right next to him. Staring at him. He chokes, and coughs to cover it up, and Adalind looks up from where she's feeding their son.

"Did I make it too strong?"

"No, it's fine," he assures, eyes darting to her daughter guiltily. He smiles, hoping she'll stop staring at him and praying whatever it is that clues her in on things is not radiating from him right now.

She doesn't smile back.

"What time do you think you'll be home?" Adalind asks, and Nick drags his eyes away from Diana.

"I don't know. Late," he says. "Jake's going to be with me, showing me around the area I'll be covering."

Jake's his boss, a wiry man about ten years younger than Nick. There's another game warden out of their office Nick hasn't met, but has heard about it. Ted Riley. He's older than Nick, and built like a truck based on the picture of him, but he'd been on leave when Nick had interviewed and come into the office to do paperwork, and wasn't due back yet for another month. Nick hasn't mentioned Ted to Adalind, and specifically why he's out of the office on leave.

He'd been mauled by a bear, and he doesn't think Adalind would be comforted to know this. Nick's not really comforted with the knowledge.

Addison likely wouldn't be, either.

"Be careful," Adalind advises. "I don't want to be widowed on your first day."

%%%%%

After a goodbye kiss from Addy (no, he still has a hard time thinking of her as that), and smiles from the kids (well, _a_ kid), Nick's in the car driving the thirty miles to the base camp that encompasses his office, basically, when he's not roaming the woods and the hillside for illegal hunters or activities.

It's east of Whitefish, and most of civilization, for that matter, and reminds Nick more of a ranger station, which he supposes it really is, than an office. He parks the jeep in front of the six hundred square foot building and takes a deep breath.

He's about to spend his first full day selling the lie that is David Johnson. He checks the pistol he was issued, in case he needs it, and grabs the thick coat that's part of his uniform and steps inside the office, half expecting law enforcement to descend on him as soon as he opens the door.

"Hey Dave, morning," Jake says, glancing at him briefly before turning back to one of the office machines. Nick's glad Jake's not looking at him because it takes him a moment to realize that Dave is him, even though he should know it by now.

"Hey, Jake," Nick says.

"Be with you in just a sec," Jake tells him, waving some papers around. "That desk is yours, if you want to take a seat," he adds, pointing to a metal desk not unlike the one he had at Portland, devoid of any of the detritus that surrounds them, other than a desk phone and an ancient computer.

"Okay," Nick agrees, easing gingerly into the chair behind it. The chair is as old as the computer and it feels unfamiliar, his body used to the ergonomic chair he had as a detective. He looks around at the office, taking in details he'd studied before when he was first here.

There's a map of Montana on one of the walls, and a topographical map taking up most of the west wall of the building. There's a red border etched within it, denoting the area that Jake's wardens cover, and Nick studies it carefully, trying to memorize it. It covers multiple counties and various terrains, some mountain and hillside, some valley, others lakes and streams. He notes Whitefish on the map and mentally calculates where his cabin is, probably no more than ten linear miles away, but there's nowhere near them that they can get to by just driving a straight line. It's all hills and curves, the same as his drive here, in the opposite direction.

There's several bulletin boards on the wall next to him, filled with documents pinned to the corkboard, notices and the like, and he's relieved to see there still isn't one of he or Adalind. Relieved and unnerved. He doesn't know what that means, that Renard doesn't have an APB out for them, demanding his head for the murder of the officers of the north precinct, and whatever else he can pin on Nick.

The other end has a TV, surprisingly one of the newer style flat screens, and a small kitchenette where Nick can smell coffee brewing. The bathroom is located there as well as a rear entrance that Nick makes note of, too.

In between Nick's desk and the kitchen is another desk, Ted's, covered with papers, and a couple of picture frames. Nick peers closely at them, trying to get a feel for the other man he'll be working with. One picture is of Ted and another man, also dressed in the fish and game warden uniform, perhaps the man Nick replaced, and Nick wonders what happened to him. Was he fatally mauled by the same bear that got hold of Ted?

The other picture is of a furry dog, with a long snout, and Nick inexplicably thinks of Monroe. He can imagine what Monroe would say should he ever mention this fact to him, the indignant look, and he misses the Blutbad so much in that moment it hurts.

"That's Ted, and Drew," Jake says, coming around beside Nick and noticing where his attention is directed. "He's the guy before you."

"He wasn't mauled by the bear, too, was he?" Nick asks.

"No, took a job near Helena. Got a fiancé that lives there. Met her when she came and worked a season here in Whitefish."

Even though they're thirty miles out from Whitefish, it's still the closest recognizable town near them.

"The dog's Ed."

"Ed and Ted?" Nick says, trying to hide a smile.

"Yeah," Jakes says in a tone that says he knows exactly what Nick's thinking, and agrees. "Wait until you meet them both," Jake adds.

"Here, come on, grab a cup of coffee and we'll go over a few things and then we'll head out."

"Okay," Nick says, getting up and following Jake to the kitchen. They spend about an hour going over some stuff, what a typical day looks like, the expectations of the job, and the new news that's just come through, and Nick tries not to tense, wondering if it's a BOLO on a man and a woman, or news about a body found hours away in Idaho.

It's neither. It's information about a wolf that's been seen roaming the woods, and some dead animals that seem to be left in its wake. Nick's spidey sense begins to buzz and he wonders if it's more than a wolf they're looking for.

"This early winter's been tough," Jake tells him as Nick follows him out to Jake's truck. They drive off to survey the area where he's last been seen. "Food sources are scarce and they're getting aggressive. He's getting aggressive anyway. Last night he attacked some people near Pine, and now we've got to take care of it."

He supposes it's not that alarming that a hungry animal might become bolder as food becomes harder to find. Still, he can't help wondering if it's just as simple an explanation as that.

"Did anyone interview the victims?" Nick asks, and berates himself silently. He sounds exactly like a detective would, and he hopes Jake doesn't notice it. As far as Jake knows, David Johnson has never worked as a detective. He spent the last fifteen years in the army and then worked some odd jobs over the last couple of years.

"Yeah, I talked to them last week. Bout what you'd expect," Jake says dismissively, and Nick hides his frown. He thinks there's more information there than Jake might be aware of, but what can he say? He's not the lead investigator, he's not an investigator at all, and he's certainly not a Grimm working a Wesen problem.

Although, it would be good to know if that was what this was – a Wesen problem.

They spend most of the morning, driving a portion of the area Nick will be responsible for, tracking the wolf's movements.

"We got a chip on him last week, so we can monitor his whereabouts. He wasn't happy about that," Jake remarks with a chuckle and Nick glances at him, still wondering what they're dealing with.

"You got to wear those glasses all the time?" he asks suddenly and Nick glances at him again.

"Yeah, photosensitivity issue," Nick says, self-consciously adjusting them.

"You get that in the army? One of those flash grenades or something?" Jake asks him, and Nick nods.

"I don't remember much about it, what happened," Nick says, hoping that will deter any deeper questions as to what happened to his eyes. "Don't much like to talk about it."

"Damn," Jakes says, shaking his head. "How long you been like that?"

"About six years, I guess, going on, anyway," Nick says.

"You married?"

"Uh, yeah, just somewhat recently so," Nick stumbles, hoping that that fact will explain away some of his surprise.

"Yeah? Any kids?"

"Uh, yeah, two kids, one of them hers, from a previous relationship."

"Yeah? I got three kids myself," and Nick glances at him in surprise.

"I know, right?" Jake says in amusement. "I started early."

"I started late," Nick says, wondering for a moment if he'll ever have any more children, or if this is it for he and Adalind. Reminds himself a second later what the hell is he thinking. They're not on a pleasure trip to the mountains, and another child would complicate an already incredibly complicated situation. They're trying to survive with the two they have now. It's way too soon in this experiment to be pondering adding their family.

"Eight, six, and three, all girls."

"Wow," Nick says. He did start early. He estimates Jake's probably not even thirty and that would put his firstborn child when he was twenty-one, and he suspects it was earlier than that. Nineteen, maybe?

"Ten and not even one," he offers after a moment, because it would seem strange if Nick—Dave—didn't. "Girl and a boy."

"Oh, wow, that's a big age difference. Ah, here we are," Jake says, pulling to a stop and shutting down the engine, and Nick's glad to get off the subject of his personal life. He looks out the windshield while Jake fiddles with the GPS tracker. They're up the mountain a ways, probably about ten miles from the station, Nick estimates. There's a map of the mountain roads and trails they're driving, and Nick's been squinting at it wondering how he's going to keep from getting lost. The most forest Nick has had to deal with comes from Portland's many parks, and while he might have been traipsing through the woods a time or two, most of the time he was never far from the city and somehow always had his bearings. He's gotten some practice these last few weeks, as he and Adalind have inhabited one remote cabin and then another, but this is nothing like that.

"Anybody live up here?" Nick asks Jake and Jake shakes his head.

"Shouldn't be. This is state park, here, no one can live on it, but about five miles east of here there's some land that's been settled on outside the park. A couple of cabins, but most people up here don't live here year-round. Winters are brutal." Nick's reminded that they're not even in the dead of winter yet, and wonders what that means for Nick and Adalind and the kids.

"Right," Nick says, getting out of the car to look around. They've been driving a trail up the mountain, following the wolf tracker for about an hour. He tunes his hearing, listening absently as Jakes thumbs the dials, drowning out the noise of the wind whipping through the tall, knotty pines. He thinks he hears it, the rustle of something moving in the forest nearby and turns his eyes towards the sound.

There's snow on the ground, but it's undisturbed except for their few footprints, and Nick watches as Jake takes a few steps ahead of him, glancing down at his handheld computer.

"This way," he says and takes the lead, Nick following behind, ears alert for anything unfamiliar. The snow's about a foot deep up here, but packed tightly and crusted over, and Nick can almost put his full weight on it without sinking down, so that when the snow does give way to him, he almost loses his balance and falls face first.

"Careful!" Jake advises with a chuckle and Nick nods, smiling self-deprecatingly, as he carefully gets to his feet.

There, almost fifty yards away is the wolf, watching him.

Nick stares back, almost not believing his eyes. He looks the animal over carefully, but it's indeed an animal, not a Wesen creature, and Nick's unbelievably relieved at this fact. There's a tag through his ear, a torn ear, Nick notes, as though the animal, or another, tried to tear or chew it off him. He's massive, too, much bigger than Nick anticipated, and he's seen wolves before so he doesn't know why it surprises him.

"Jake," Nick dares to whisper, afraid he'll startle the animal.

"I see it," Jake says quietly, slowly moving a hand towards his sidearm. It's a dart gun, one that will probably fall short at the range they're at from the target. The wolf stares down Nick for another moment and then dashes away, deep into the forest and Nick breathes out a loud sigh.

"Jesus, did you see how big he was?" Jake asks him and Nick nods. "Huge. Haven't ever seen a wolf that big before."

"Don't they usually hunt in packs?" Nick asks and Jake nods.

"Usually, but this one's been alone every time we've tracked its movements."

It's unusual, Nick thinks, but he's hardly an expert on wolves, though he feels he's probably more informed than most.

Jake looks around them carefully, face pensive, before moving off in a direction about thirty degrees left from the one the wolf disappeared to, climbing up the tree-lined hillside. Nick follows, after a moment, stepping carefully and mulling the strange behavior of the wolf.

"Ah, here it is," Jake says and Nick crests the hill and finds Jake and the carcass he's referring to. It's an elk, Nick identifies, recently killed judging by the looks of it and Nick traces the blood spatter around the animal with his cop eyes, looking for anomalies. He approaches the animal carefully, some part of him mindful about disturbing a crime scene, which is ridiculous because they're way out here in the woods, where Nature's just being Nature, and Jake's obviously not concerned about any crime that's been committed since he's right next to the animal, bending down to take a look.

"Neck's torn," he says, and Nick nods. The tears were clearly committed by an animal, likely the wolf. "Leg's missing, too," Jake says, looking around.

"There," Nick points, following a blood trail down the side of hill. He spies the torn hind leg of the elk near the base of a tree and heads towards it. There's no tracks here, though, given the amount of weight the snow's supporting that's not surprising. The wolf, though massive, probably weighs at least fifty pounds less than he does, and he's hardly making any indentations, making the descent an extra degree of fun he could do without. He makes sure to jab his booted heel in with each step, trying to get a foothold as he gets closer. He stops about twenty feet away, something catching his eye.

He looks carefully, but he can't figure out what he's seen that makes him pause until he feels a breeze pass through and he sees it again.

A piece of fabric, caught in the brush, and he maneuvers awkwardly towards it. He gingerly touches it, a thin piece of blue and grey flannel and wonders how it got up here and why. He looks down at the leg a few feet away and then around the forest, feeling that tingling in his body that indicates a threat is near.

He sees nothing though, hears nothing, and he has his Grimm hearing tuned tightly for any sound. All that he can hear are Jake's boots crunching over the snow as he moves around the elk carcass and Nick almost snaps at him to stop.

"Well, come on, let's head back to the truck," Jake says and Nick turns his head to the side towards him in acknowledgement.

"Okay," Nick says, debating on sharing his find with him.

"You find something interesting?"

"Piece of fabric," Nick says, holding it up and reluctantly retracing his steps. It feels like whatever's there is watching him, and now his back is to it. He wonders if it's the wolf. He's so tightly wound, waiting for it to make its move that he keeps his head half turned in anticipation. He struggles to hang onto the fabric as he ascends the hill and finally makes it back to Jake after a few minutes.

"Looks like a piece of flannel," Nick says, showing it to him. "How do you think it got there?" Nick asks. Jakes examines it and shakes his head.

"Probably a hunter," he says. "Lots of them up here looking for meat and game. Most of them without a license. Those are the kinds of people you'll be looking for. Not usually much excitement up here otherwise, besides this," Jake adds, waving his hand behind them, indicating the wolf and the dead elk.

"Although, sometimes that's excitement enough. Just ask Ted when he gets back," Jake says with a hearty laugh.

%%%%


	15. Part Three - Chapter Five

AN: As always, you guys are the best. Thank you.

%%%%

The rest of his first week passes uneventfully after that. They track the wolf every day, but most of the time he's moving so deep into the woods they can't get to him, or they're on the other side of the forest when he turns up and by the time they're able to reach him he'll be gone.

The job's boring, especially compared to seven years as a homicide detective investigating Wesen cases, and nearly fifteen on the force. There was always plenty of weird in Portland even before he knew about Wesen to keep him entertained. He gets to spend most of his time outside, something that he'll probably think is a perk when it's not ten below freezing and a foot of snow is falling over him.

There's not many, other than after the next week he'll be working largely alone, and he likes his boss. The pay isn't great; he made almost twice as much more as a homicide detective in Portland, but he can't argue that it pays better than what he'd be making doing odd jobs or whatever he envisioned at Whitefish Resort, and right now he needs to provide for his family.

Never more so apparent than when he finally returns home after an arduous day.

"Watch where you step," Adalind reminds him. "I just set the table." He looks down at the blanket held down by some mismatched plates at his feet and twists his lips.

"We've really got to get a dining table," he says to Adalind, shrugging out of his coat, and hanging it on the newel post.

"We've got to get a lot of things," she says. He knows his next three paychecks are already spent, and he tries not to let the pressure of making sure his family has what they need overwhelm him.

"Maybe I could make one," he remarks, and catches a look from Adalind. "What? It's not as hard as it looks," he says defensively. "I'm sure I could manage it."

"I'm sure you could, too, sweetie," she says placatingly and Nick wonders at the endearment. They've been trying more to embrace their new identities at home, something they've both been hesitant to do, but Nick thinks they both need the practice. They're still struggling at times to substitute the right name for each other and he's afraid in a moment of panic they'll slip.

"How was your day?" she says, giving him a kiss.

"Cold," he replies. "I think we might be snowed in after tomorrow. The TV down at the station said we're expecting about eighteen inches of snow."

Adalind looks at him in surprise.

"Irving said he'd be up in a day or two to plow us out," Nick added, referring to their landlord.

"That's good. I don't think we'd survive more than three days of being snowed in."

"Where's Diana?" he asks, looking for her, and Adalind points to her room, where the door's shut. "Don't tell me we have a moody teenager already," he jokes and Adalind flashes unimpressed blue eyes at his lame attempt at humor, and Nick sobers. "How did it go today?" Nick asks.

"Okay," Adalind says.

Nick waits for her to elaborate.

"Just okay?" he prompts.

"Yeah, kind of boring while you were gone," Adalind says, shrugging. "We took a walk in the woods today, just to see what was around the cabin."

"And?"

"And it's just more woods," Adalind says.

"Could have told you that."

"There's not a lot to do here to entertain kids," Adalind says with a sigh. "Especially a young girl and an infant. It's too cold to be out, but I think Kelly liked the little makeshift sled we made."

Sledding. He can remember going sledding when he was a kid in Rhinebeck. Ice-skating, too. Building forts in the snow, his mom having a snowball fight with him and always winning.

Seems kind of unfair now. She clearly had an advantage.

Back then he thought it was always so cool, his mom and his aunt both, and how they just rolled with everything he did.

He looks around the cabin and wonders what Adalind does all day to keep herself busy, and, more importantly, stay sane. There's nothing, no furniture, except for the kids' rooms to sit and even read a book. There are no books.

"What do you guys do here all day while I'm gone?" he asks her.

"Count the hours until you're home," she replies wryly. No wonder everyone's excited to see him. "Tell Diana dinner's almost ready."

He knocks on the door and opens it a moment later. Diana's sitting in the middle of her bed cross-legged, levitating the handful of meager objects she has in her room. A pair of shoes, one of Kelly's toys, and a few other odds and ends. She meets Nick's eyes, the objects never wavering as she holds them steady.

"Your mom says it's time for dinner."

"I'm not hungry," Diana tells him.

Nick gets the feeling more transpired than what Adalind's telling him. "Well, why don't you come out and join us, anyway. I haven't seen you all day." Diana flashes blue eyes, identical to her mother's, at him and Nick offers a smile and moves away, leaving the door open.

"Diana, wash up for dinner," Adalind calls.

"I'm not hungry!" she yells and the door slams shut a second later.

"What's all that about?" Nick asks, but Adalind ignores him as she tucks her chin down and marches over to the door, flinging it open with a flick of her wrist, before slamming it shut again behind her.

"Okay," Nick says to the room, glancing down at his son when Kelly makes a noise. Nick wonders if he shouldn't grab his son and take him outside before the house falls down around him, but a moment later the door flies open and Adalind marches out again, giving Nick a strained smile. A sullen Diana appears a moment later and Nick wisely decides not to comment on either female's behavior.

Dinner's a strained affair, with Adalind trying to pretend everything's fine, Diana acting as though everything isn't and Nick confused as to what's going on.

Kelly seems to be the only safe topic to broach, and Adalind informs him that she thinks Kelly's going to be walking any day. Nick glances at his son in his lap and can't believe how much time has passed by. He just seems to have mastered the art of crawling, and now they have to be careful what they leave around the floor since now that he's mobile, Kelly's into everything.

He's a naturally curious child, something he can remember his mother saying about him. He wonders what else Kelly's inherited from Nick, besides looks, and yes, even Nick can see and admit to the resemblance. He's babbling more, too, and Diana comes out of her funk to claim she heard a discernible word, and Nick demands to know what it is.

"Dada?" he asks, because he's been working on that one now for a while with Kelly.

"No," Diana scoffs, and Adalind fixes a sharp eye on her daughter, and Nick gets the unsettling feeling that they were arguing about him.

"Mama?" he asks, because he supposes he can concede Kelly's first word to Adalind, given all the time she spends with him while Nick's gone.

"No."

"Well don't leave us in suspense," Nick says.

"Bau," she says, and Nick's brow furrows. So does Adalind's, so Nick feels a little better.

"Bow? Like Bow-wow," Nick says, wondering where Kelly even saw a dog in the last two months to associate the name with it.

"No, Bau, like Fuchsbau. His stuffed animal," Diana clarifies at their confused looks, and Adalind and Nick both look across the room where the stuffed fox that is one of his favorite toys is sitting in his carrier.

"Bau?" Adalind says, like she can't believe it. "Really?"

Diana nods.

"Where did he even learn that word?" Nick asks.

"I taught it to him," Diana says, and Nick wonders what else Kelly's learning from his sister that they're not aware of.

"Are you sure he's saying that?" Adalind asks her daughter and Diana looks at her mother. "Okay," Adalind says, "if you're sure."

%%%%%

"Bau," Nick repeats, later that night when they're readying for bed. Or camp, he thinks, because he refuses to associate something like the word bed with the sleeping bag he has unrolled on the floor. At this point if Adalind changes her mind about getting them a real bed for the upstairs he thinks might do something unmanly and pathetic like cry. It's all that's been getting him through this last week. Although, he hardly notices any more all the joints that crack and ache when he gets up in the morning, and the coldness of the floor seeping through is welcomed now that he's subjected to the heat of sharing a sleeping bag made for one with Adalind.

"I know," Adalind says, shaking her head. "I'm pretty sure I heard him say mama once, though."

After "Bau" Nick would welcome that as Kelly's first word. To know that he doesn't even rate higher than a beloved toy.

"After all I've done for him," Nick laments.

"You? He's not gnawing your nipples raw every day," she says and Nick has to bite back a smile.

"No," he says, flipping back the cover, "he's not. Because in the division of labor, I got providing the roof over his head, and you got meal service."

"Wanna trade?" she asks.

"No, thank you. My equipment would come up lacking, I suspect. I can't even imagine how weird that would be."

"Ha, ha," she says, rolling her eyes and slipping inside the sleeping bag, rolling on her side to make room for him.

"You want to tell me what went on today?" Nick asks as he settles in beside her.

"No, not really," she says with a sigh. "Same ole, same ole, here at the shack."

Nick has no idea what that means. Does he want to know? He finds he's too tired to pursue it and lets it drop for the time being.

"Hey, good news, Jake says the park service is going to provide me with a vehicle, so you can have the jeep after next week."

"That's good," Adalind says, indeed looking like she's buoyed by this news. "I need to find the library and start working with Diana on some schoolwork. I bet she'd like some books to read, too. And Kelly, we could get back to reading him a bedtime story."

Adalind was almost always the one reading Kelly a bedtime story, and they were generally the Wesen version of fairy tales. Usually by the time Nick got home from work, Kelly was long asleep.

"That's probably a good idea," Nick agrees, closing his eyes. He opens them a moment later when he feels Adalind's hand on his face, rubbing fingers across his beard.

"I kind of like this look on you," she says. "Scruffy and sexy at the same time."

He fingers a lock through her mousy brown hair. "I know, you like the blonde," she says and he can't disagree. He knows why Adalind dyed it, but that doesn't change the fact he'd grown to love her long blonde hair fanning around him as they slept, or made love. He supposes he should be glad she didn't cut it.

"You're still beautiful," he says. Nick didn't usually effuse his feelings, but he's decided David's going to be more upfront about how he feels for the woman next to him.

The loss of her, even those few days when he didn't know when he would see his son or her again, still resonates, and he promised himself she would no longer be the only one putting herself out there, but over the last couple of months he's struggled to make good on that, especially with Diana's disapproving stare hanging over them.

She moves closer, touching her mouth to his and Nick kisses her long and deep. He rolls her on her back, suddenly feeling less tired and spends the next half hour making love to the woman he can no longer imagine living without.

%%%%%

"Dave!"

Why, after almost two weeks of being addressed as such by Jake it still makes him pause, he doesn't know, but fortunately Jake takes his hesitation as surprise.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but come take a look at this," he says, waving him over to his desk. Nick drops his things, a lunch packed by Adalind, and his hat and gloves and moseys over to Jake and the board with the topographical map of Montana he's standing in front of.

"What am I looking at?" Nick says, noting several push pins dotting along the map.

"These are the sites of the wolf's movements over the last two weeks. At each of these we've found animal carcasses. This one here," he says, tapping next to a pin with a knuckle, "was the elk we found. And this, was the fox. And this one was the deer we found last Friday." He taps at another pin, continuing, and Nick begins to notice a pattern.

"It's traveling in a circle," Nick says to him.

"Yup, I think so. Judging by what information we have here, we should find it somewhere near Loggins Creek, I would expect, over the next couple of days."

"Why would it move in a circle like this?" Nick wonders.

"Every animal has a domain, so to speak."

"I know, but not every animal moves in such a predictable, patterned way. This seems…weird," he settles on, not sure how to explain that it seems human. Or somewhat human. Everything that Jake's saying sounds logical. It's true, most animals operate with a home base, and move around based on their proximity to it and the ability to find food within it. If food becomes difficult to find they either move their home base or face death.

"Well, I say we spend our last day together searching the creek and see if we can find the bastard."

Nick nods, eyes roaming over the pins and the maps, trying to commit them to memory for later.

"Let's grab a cup of coffee and we'll head out," Jake tells him and Nick nods again in agreement. Fifteen minutes later they're on the road and headed out north west of the station.

By now Nick's perfected the ability to idly listen to Jake's chatter and respond where appropriate and tune him out for the rest. He's learned over the course of the last two weeks that Jake's not married to the mother of his three children and never intends to be, that her name is Leslie, his children are named Jessica, Elizabeth, and Aubree (Jessie, Lizzie and Aubree or the Trio of Terror, as he refers to them), that he was indeed young when the first one of his children was born (twenty), that he's one-eighth Sioux from his mother's side, and that he got this job through the time-honored act of nepotism before his father retired as a thirty-year veteran of the park service.

In return, Jake's learned that Dave's not much of a talker, is a good listener, and loves a good old fashion mystery, at least that how Jake puts it one day.

"Your wife a good cook?" Jake asks him, noticing the lunch Nick brought.

Nick shrugs. "She's gotten better," he admits, which like most of the things he relates about his personal life is steeped in some level of truth. Adalind has improved considerably from when they first were living together. "I think she knows how to boil rice now."

Jake snorts. "I'd have to draw mine a map of how to even find the kitchen. Haven't had a decent meal since my grandmother died five years ago."

"The one on your mother's side?" he asks gamely, although he's learned that despite his father getting him a decent job to support his children, Jake doesn't seem to have much love for that side of the family. From what he's gathered, the feeling is mutual.

"Yeah, I tell you about her?"

"A little bit," Nick says, and Jake launches into more detail about her while Nick goes over the movements on the board. He only investigated three of the scenes. He only found the piece of cloth at the one, the first one. Everything appears to be just as Jake ascribes it to be: a hungry wolf, foraging for food, at times becoming aggressive when he's desperate.

But he's finding food, Nick reminds himself. Big game, too. He shouldn't be hungry so soon after felling an Elk or a deer. Perhaps he's not wondering the woods by himself? Maybe there is a pack that moves in to eat after he makes the kill? How is he even getting such large game by himself? There's been only set of tracks found at one of the scenes, the most recent one after the snowfall, and then it was just wolf tracks, not anything else.

What else is he expecting?

It's not a Blutbad, though much of the scenes, the way the animals are killed, remind him of that. It's not a wildersheer, either.

It's not human in any form, Wesen or otherwise, he tells himself disgustedly. He's so used to seeing Wesen everywhere, Wesen being a part of every violent case he investigates that he sees them in everything now, apparently, even when the facts of the case don't add up to that.

He told Adalind he could let go of being a Grimm, that the safety of his family now meant more than the centuries of duty instilled in being a Grimm. That whether or not he liked being a Grimm he needed to make the choice to protect his family, and the truth was that even though he liked it, being a Grimm was wearing on him. It was destroying everything that he loved, placing hardships on his friends, and putting them at risk all because of who he was and what they were. He needs to stop looking at everything like a Grimm. Nick Burkhardt was a Grimm, trying to maintain law and order among Wesen. David Johnson is just a game warden trying to put food on the table. Trying to _get_ a table to put food on.

"Dave? You with me?" Jake interrupts.

"Yeah, sorry, zoned out there for a sec."

He realizes the truck has stopped and they're sitting at the end of a snow-covered cow path that goes up the mountain.

"Have to hike it the rest of the way. Got your snow shoes?" Jake asks, and Nick nods. He straps what are basically tennis rackets onto his boots, and slings the rifle he was issued over his shoulder, and follows Jake up the mountain. The snow shoes make it easier to climb through the snow, though they necessitate more concentration on how he moves his legs and feet. The ascent is steep, and Nick can hear Jake panting beside him as they climb.

"Must be all that army training, huh? The drills and such," Jake says, and Nick realizes he's referring to the fact Nick's not at all winded by the climb.

"Probably," Nick agrees, looking around. The woods are quiet, pristine, with a coating of powdery snow and Nick almost feels bad for disturbing it. Theirs are the only tracks in the ground that he can see, not even any rabbit, or fox, or other small game. He's getting better at identifying the tracks in the ground, helped along by Jake and a few books he lent to him on the subject, and just what he picked up while researching crime scenes in and around Portland. He never thought he'd become such an expert on scat, either, but several times he's been able to correctly identify the animal who left it.

Adalind wasn't exactly impressed, but he suspects Monroe would be proud of him.

Monroe.

He feels his chest pang at the thought of his friend. He doesn't allow himself much time to think of Monroe, Rosalee, Hank and Wu, Trubel and Bud and even Eve. All the others he'd come to know and call friends. Fortunately, the harried circumstances of the last two and a half months have been kind in that regard, not allowing for a lot of time spent on anything but figuring out how to survive from one day to the next. Occasionally Adalind makes a remark that reminds him of everything they left behind, but usually he pushes the memories down and tries to focus on the here and now.

Sometimes, he finds himself hoping that one day that his friends can understand why he did what he did. Most of the time, though, he hopes they never discover what really happened to him and Adalind. It was better for them, they could finally live their own lives without being sucked in by Nick's, and it was certainly better for Nick and his family to not have to put them or themselves at risk every day.

There had been a part of him that had considered giving his friends a definitive answer as to whether he was dead, so that they wouldn't spend weeks and months, and maybe even years, searching for answers. Searching for him. He'd thought about the accident his parents had, something like that, but both Hank and Wu were too good of investigators to just believe he and Adalind had died in a fiery crash. Without a body, they would always be wondering, especially knowing now that his mother had tricked everyone into believing she was dead when she'd gone on living for twenty years off the grid. In time, if he could manage to stay hidden long enough, with no answers or new clues they would come to believe that he was dead, captured by the royals, or even remnants of black claw and killed, with no other options left.

He wasn't sure if that was crueler or not, but he couldn't help thinking of all the things that had been denied his friends because of their association with him as a Grimm. Rosalee and Monroe could finally live their life as they wanted, enjoy their marriage, maybe one day have children of their own. Hank wouldn't have to worry about people using him to get to Nick, wondering what was going to crawl out of the walls next. The harassment of good people like Bud because other Wesen knew of his friendship with Nick and disapproved.

Trubel…

Trubel. Trubel was capable, Nick knew, of keeping Portland safe. Hell, she had probably done more as a Grimm in the last year of working for Hadrian's Wall than Nick had the whole time he'd been a Grimm. Eve, too, would help her maintain order, and though it still felt like there was unfinished business between him and Eve/Juliette, it also felt good to be rid of the weight of everything hanging down between them. Trubel, he knew, wouldn't understand, not unless she had family of her own, and Trubel was too smart for that.

He wondered how Hank and Wu were doing in Portland, what Renard was doing to find Nick and Adalind and more importantly his daughter. How badly Hank and Wu were being punished for not giving or having the answers Renard was looking for.

He wondered how Rosalee was doing, if things at the spice shop were going okay, if they still met to solve crimes in his absence. Rosalee would probably be able to tell him whether or not his instincts about the wolf were unfounded. She'd probably have a book or two on it.

He missed the Grimm books, the knowledge they contained, the history, the feeling of closeness and belonging to something, when for most of his life he felt untethered and out of place. He had Kelly now. Adalind and Diana to anchor him. He belonged to them, and he reminded himself that he didn't have to look anymore, or risk his life night after night to find that feeling of closeness.

It was right beside him now, crowding him out of a cramped sleeping bag, he thought ruefully, but he was grateful he had Adalind in his life.

"Hey," Jake says and whistles pointedly. Nick refocuses sharply on the present and looks where Jake is indicating.

Wolf tracks.

He stops, looking around, listening to Jake breathe heavily a dozen feet away from him as he pauses, too. The tracks made a meandering path across their own, and look to wind their way across the hillside they were climbing.

He and Jake exchange a look before Jake sighs loudly and starts to trudge alongside the tracks. It's difficult and slow going, maintaining their balance on the side of hill. The tracks weave in and around fallen trees and brush, and Nick wonders if the wolf is after more food, or perhaps if its den is nearby.

They walk about a mile, Nick estimates, before Jake halts, looking around them. They are deep into the hillside, the reality of encountering bears, and moose and other creatures less accommodating to being startled by humans far more likely. The wolf tracks continue for as far as Nick can see and other than the sound of their own feet against the snow he hasn't heard anything that makes him think the animal is close by.

"I guess we'll go back," Jake announces. "See if we can spot him on the GPS somewhere. Doesn't look like he's anywhere near here."

"Okay," Nick agrees. "Do you mind if I walk a little bit further? I just want to take a little longer look. I can meet you back at the truck," Nick tells him at his hesitation, and Jake nods.

"Be careful," Jake advises. "I'll see what I can find on the tracker and radio you if I see anything."

"Sounds good," Nick agrees and watches Jake carefully pick his way back the way they came. He waits until he's out of sight and turns back to the tracks. He takes a deep breath and focuses his Grimm hearing, trying to pick apart the sounds. He can still hear Jake's feet as he trudges through the snow and Nick starts moving, trying to put more distance between him so he can hear better. He follows the tracks another half mile and stops.

It's eerie how quiet the forest is. Like it's aware there's an intruder in its midst and everything has silenced in an effort to avoid detection. There's not even the sound of birds squawking in the trees overhead. Nick looks around him, that disconcerted feeling coming over him.

He's being watched.

He turns carefully, slowly, trying to catch sight of it, but to no avail. He completes a full circle and nothing.

"I know you're out there," he says, his voice sounding incredibly loud in the silence. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

He hopes he doesn't regret that last taunt. He feels kind of silly when, after a couple of minutes, nothing happens. He looks around again, knowing his instincts aren't misleading him, but he can't make out where or what is watching him.

Jake will be starting to get worried, he thinks, if he doesn't start back soon, so after another moment of debating with himself he turns back. It wouldn't do to get mauled by animal up here. The likelihood he would die before he got to a hospital, before Jake could get to him, was high and he wonders if maybe he should be carrying the stick with him, in case.

Of course, how to explain it, if someone found it on him.

 _Hey, it's my lucky stick. My magic wand. My I-don't-know-what-the-fuck-it-is-except-freaky-scary-in-a-life-saving-kind-of-way._ It had saved Monroe's, Eve's, and Nick's, and was currently tucked away in under the foundation of their cabin. He had hidden it there one day while Adalind took the kids into town to look for some things.

He should tell Adalind about it. They're looking for ways to control Diana's hexenbiest tendencies, and he thinks the stick might be critical to that, but he doesn't know enough about it to be sure. Of course, Adalind might, if he ever decides to share it with her, but so far, he's been reluctant to do so and he's not sure why.

Plausible deniability, he tells himself. She can't admit to knowing anything about a magical stick found in the black forest if she doesn't know that one existed, or that he has it.

He freezes, something catching out of the corner of his eye.

The wolf.

Watching him. Walking beside him, approximately fifty feet away.

He wasn't there a moment ago, Nick knows.

They stare at one another for a long moment. Nick thinks about sliding the rifle off his shoulder and aiming it. Knows instinctively that if he even reaches for it, the wolf will make its move, although whether it's to attack or flee he's not sure. It doesn't seem to be scared of him. It really doesn't appear it's concerned with him at all, which is in and of itself a tad concerning. Years as a Grimm of the predator/prey relationship tell Nick that if your prey isn't worried about you getting to it, maybe you're not the one with the advantage.

The wolf seems to wait patiently as he comes to this unnerving conclusion.

 _Shit,_ he thinks, staring at it.

It's the last thought he has before something rips into his side.


	16. Part Four - Chapter One

AN: We're back, checking in with the scoobies. Thanks to everyone for all the reviews/favorites! Love them.

%%%%

"Here's another one: how about Claudia?"

"Claudia…Claudia…" Rosalee tries. Claudia… She shakes her head. "No."

Monroe drops the book of names he's going through on his lap and give her a look.

"Why not?"

"I knew a girl once, named Claudia when I lived in Seattle," Rosalee says. "Total bitch."

Monroe rolls his eyes.

"We don't even know if it's a girl, anyway," Rosalee points out.

"We find out in two days."

"We still have four more months after that until the baby is born. We have plenty of time to pick out a name," Rosalee soothes.

"That's good, because we've gone through every one in this book," Monroe says, waving it in the air.

"Really? Claudia was the last one? What is that? A through C?"

"No, it's the last five hundred years of my family ancestry."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I suppose Claudia's nice," she ventures. "Maybe as a middle name," she offers and Monroe gives her a sour look.

"No, no, we'll keep looking."

"Sorry," she says, as Monroe stands and replaces the bound leather volume back onto the shelf. She's trying not to be difficult, really, but the last few weeks have been a rollercoaster of emotions. She's five months pregnant, over halfway, and the mood swings are in full force while the morning sickness has finally abated. She wasn't afflicted with it for long or very severely, but it was enough to wear her down, when she already feels worn down by what's happening around them.

She's over halfway, and that means the baby will be here sooner now, rather than later, and she can't explain why she's having such a hard time mustering enthusiasm about the fact.

The pregnancy's progressing normally, no issues, and the strange cramping she had her doctor assures her is nothing to worry about. Since it's gone away, she's entitled to believe her, but she can't relax, wondering what's going on, if everything's as okay as everyone is trying to convince her it is, as she moves further along in her pregnancy.

Portland's still a mess, and though she and Monroe talked about leaving a couple of months ago, they've not made any effort to find somewhere else. She'd blame Monroe for dragging his feet, but she's been reluctant, too, to look at other places, and she's still undecided as to where she wants to live. Her mother and sister keep pushing for her to move back home, and despite their up and down relationship she has with them, she can't deny she's tempted at this point.

So until she makes a decision on where she even wants to go, she goes through the motions every day of being the proprietor of a spice shop. Things have calmed down some—she doesn't feel like she and Monroe are being targeted anymore, but that's not to say they're not still being watched.

"You want some tea?" Monroe asks and she nods, letting him bustle around the shop gathering the ingredients. He heads up the stairs to brew a cup and Rosalee takes a moment to look around her. Though most of the shop is largely unchanged from when Freddie ran it, down here displays the most influence of her reign of ownership. There are piles of books, a couple of old chairs, some ancient weaponry, most of which came from Nick's trailer after it burned. There's more books and more weapons hidden under the old sewer grate, and she ponders what to do with them, now that it's been months since anyone's seen or heard from Nick or Adalind.

She still misses her friends dearly.

The weapons and books are worth a lot of money to the right people, and she and Monroe could use it towards finding a new place, getting things for the baby, stuff like that. Monroe would flatly refuse if she ever brought the idea up, which is why she hasn't said anything to him about it.

And she can't bring herself to sell them or give them away anyway. She hopes she can convince Trubel to take them, but right now Trubel seems content to use the basement of the spice shop as home base for any Grimm mysteries she needs to solve or arm up with.

As do the others.

It gives her a chance to catch up with everyone, as they seem to have split and splintered as a group as they become more and more consumed with their own individual lives.

Hank and Wu have been busy down at the precinct, and now that Trubel's back with Eve and Josh they spend a lot of time with them working any Wesen cases. Josh comes by every now and then, and Rosalee thinks he's a little lost, unsure of what his role is now that he's back in Portland. He's not much help in the shop, but he's gotten better researching information out of the books. Trubel is busy, either with Hank and Wu, or with Wesen matters outside of their cases, and as the resident Grimm in Portland there's been plenty for her to do. Eve, surprisingly, hasn't been helping as much as Rosalee would have thought, though she's still actively involved in a lot, but she seems to have turned inward and Rosalee thinks this re-transition she's going through is bothering her more than she's let on.

Juliette's back, and it looks like she's here to stay.

Despite having a couple more females she could relate to, she feels alone. Pregnancy and baby concerns are not something Trubel can identify with, neither Eve, and though they could empathize, and would, Rosalee wishes she had someone she could talk to that's been through it.

She wishes she could talk to Adalind, but that's not going to happen and she just needs to resign herself to the fact.

She feels like Adalind would understand her hesitation about the pregnancy. That she wouldn't judge when Rosalee tells her she feels so overwhelmed by everything going on that she finds it hard to get excited. That she feels so ashamed when Monroe goes on and on about doing things for the baby and she can only nod and smile and hope he doesn't notice that she's struggling to match his enthusiasm.

He's noticed a few times, but he thinks it's nerves, and while that's some of it, a lot of it, she knows it's not the whole story.

She's hoping in two days, when they go for the ultrasound that will tell them the baby's sex, that she will finally feel something that will pull her out of this funk.

"There you go," Monroe says, coming down the stairs, holding a fragile looking teacup and saucer.

"Thank you," she murmurs, taking it from him and taking a sip. She looks around the basement again, and wonders if she can part with all the history down here, either. It's more than that the books and artifacts are worth something, it's that they contain centuries of priceless, historical information. That Nick trusted them to protect them, and she thinks of the keys he entrusted to her years ago and how she hid them in a secret compartment under the shop floor without second thought.

She wonders if she would do something like that again, knowing now how much she has to lose if someone discovers something like that. She meant what she said to Monroe. They have to start making better decisions about their future, now that it's not just them to worry about. Keeping that stuff is a risk, even now, but it's riskier if it falls into the wrong hands.

"You okay?" Monroe asks.

"Fine," she says, flashing a smile. "Just tired. And thinking."

"About what?" he asks warily.

"All this stuff down here," she says, waving a hand around and Monroe looks askance.

"Is this like a nesting thing? Are you wanting to clean or something?" he asks her, referencing the pregnancy book she has that they've both been reading.

"No," she says, although she kind of does. Whether it's because she thinks physically cleaning it will wipe it clean mentally and emotionally she doesn't know, but either way it's futile.

Trubel, Wu, Josh and the others tramp down here at least once a week to research something, sometimes more than that, and they leave behind them evidence of their presence every time, from a fast food cup, to notes, to just the scent of them having been there.

"Okay," Monroe says, waiting for her to elaborate.

"I was just thinking…maybe it's time to pass on to Trubel all these things. I mean, Nick would want her to have it, and it would clean out some room down here."

She knows as soon as she says it that Monroe's not on board with it at all, just as she suspected.

"What room is it taking up?" he asks. "Trubel's got nowhere to put it anyway, and Nick's only been gone a few months, I mean, he could still come back."

"Then Trubel can give it back to him," Rosalee points out reasonably.

"Well, I mean, if we give it to Trubel, it's a gift, it's kind of rude to expect it back or for her to give it to someone else," he says.

"Monroe, you know that same as I do, that if Nick were to come back, Trubel would give him everything back, just as you know that Nick's not coming back."

Monroe shakes his head, but some of the fight seems to go out of him, and Rosalee feels bad for reminding him that things on the Nick front have been bleak from the get go, but especially as more time passes with no new information.

"It's been months, Monroe."

"I know," he says, not looking at her.

"There's been nothing," she emphasizes.

"I _know,_ " he repeats, eyes flashing red for a moment, but it fades quickly.

"I'm sorry," she says, not sure why either of them are angry except that she still feels so helpless and it's pissing her off. They can't figure out what's happened to Nick and Adalind, they're in the middle of a war zone with Portland going crazy and the new mayor unable to stop it, and they're trapped here, wracked with indecision and guilt over things they can't control and she's… Just. So. Sick of it.

Right now, they're outnumbered and everyone has agreed to bide their time until a better opportunity presents itself, but so long as Renard's in power, she's not sure that will ever come.

"I got a call," Monroe says. "On a clock, I'm going to go check it out and see what I need to do."

"Okay," Rosalee says. "Be careful."

"You, too," he says, giving her a kiss on her forehead before he leaves.

She regrets the way she snapped at him, but she's also glad to have the rest of the afternoon to herself. She busies herself with taking inventory and putting stock out, trying to focus her mind on mundane things.

She helps a couple of customers in-between, business finally picking back up a little after the boycott when Renard first took power and people labeled her and Monroe as Grimm-sympathizers. Now though, even those that supported Renard in the beginning are becoming disenchanted and most Wesen are realizing that the Utopia that was promised is probably never going to happen under his rule.

She hears the bell chime over the door as she's placing some jars on the shelf.

"I'll be with you in just a sec," she says, struggling to reach the spot on the shelf to place the last jar. She's going to have to climb down from the stool and move it, she thinks when something grabs the jar away from her hand. It wavers as soon as its free, hovering unsteadily right before the space on the shelf before the jar shakes and then falls to the floor, shattering.

Rosalee whips her head around and spies Eve, arm outstretched, look of intense concentration, tainted by fear.

Eve lowers her arm and looks at Rosalee.

"I need your help."

%%%%%

"How long has it been going on?" Rosalee asks. "Since Nick used the stick?"

"I think so," Eve says. They're downstairs in the basement, the _closed_ sign on the shop door upstairs, with some of Nick's new Grimm books spread out around them, a spell book that she thinks was Adalind's, and a few others that Eve has gathered up. There's an untouched cup of tea between them, the one Monroe made, forgotten as soon as he left, and Rosalee looks at because she's not sure what to say or think about this development.

"Something wasn't right, I knew that, after he used it on me, but it's not gotten any better over the last few months. I've noticed my powers aren't what they used to be."

Rosalee wonders if that puts Eve in the range of an average, every day, normal Hexenbiest.

"Do you think they're going away?" she asks Eve.

"I don't know," Eve says, and looks at Rosalee with naked fear. It's pure Juliette, and Rosalee stares back, seeing the woman she once called a good friend somewhere in those eyes. She doesn't know what she calls her now. Friend, foe, both, she's not sure. So much has happened, but it all seems so long ago, and she finds she doesn't have the energy to pursue it.

"What do you need from me?" Rosalee asks tiredly.

"A spell, or information on how to strengthen my powers."

"A spell?" she repeats.

"I think Nick used to have a bunch of information on Hexenbiests."

"He did. You burned it."

Eve looks up at this, and Rosalee raises her brows pointedly.

"I know," Eve says softly, looking away.

"So, if your powers are leaving you, what do we call you? I mean, does this mean you're Juliette again? Because you sure as hell don't seem like Eve."

"I don't know. I don't know who I am anymore." It's said with emotion, the confusion and sadness evident and normally it's something that Rosalee would respond to with compassion, but she finds anger is quicker to ride to the forefront. She welcomes it, Juliette/Eve an outlet for all the frustration she's feeling.

"Well, don't expect me to help you figure that out," Rosalee snaps. "Not after everything you did."

"I don't. I won't."

"You almost killed Monroe, you know that? You actually took Nick's gun and forced him to point it at Monroe and then you fired off a shot!" she yells and Juliette looks up at her.

"I'm sorry," she tries, but Rosalee cuts her off.

"Sorry? Sorry? You think sorry would make up if I lost my husband? What about what you did to Nick? What you did to his mother? How could you? How _could_ you? You loved him. They gave him her head in a box! A _box_ , Juliette. That's how he found out his mother was dead. That you had betrayed him. Left it in a box for him to find. It wasn't his fault, what happened to you. You know, it wasn't even Adalind's fault."

"I know," Juliette says again, and Rosalee thinks she's just agreeing so she'll stop yelling at her.

"She did a lot of things to him. To you, but you're the one that did some lasting damage, so congratulations," she says sarcastically. "You finally bested your enemy. Too bad you took everyone down with you."

She's so angry she's shaking and she takes a moment and breathes in deeply, trying to find her center again, but she can't. She can't even see the books in front of her she's so blinded by rage that's been bottled up for nearly a year.

"You tried to kill his son," she continues lowly. "A baby that wasn't even born yet." Her hand instinctively covers her own small bump. "There's no excuse for what you did to Nick. He didn't deserve to have his mother taken away, his family's legacy taken away, his life, and his son's threatened."

"I know," Juliette says, and a clear liquid splatters on the table between them. Rosalee doesn't look up.

"I can't help you," she says. "Not after what you did. Take whatever you need and get out."

She stares at the drop while Juliette gathers a couple of things and leaves, and Rosalee doesn't breathe out until she hears the door chime and then shut.

Then, she bows her head and covers her face with her hands and cries.

%%%%%

Her anger was justified.

But that doesn't stop the regret and shame she feels for how she acted. It needed to be said, she reminds herself. They were never going to be able to move past it if they didn't talk about it, air it out, and she wonders if it's even possible, that after everything, if they can move past it. If she can forgive Juliette for what she's done.

If she even wants too.

She spends the next two days pondering that question. She doesn't say anything to Monroe about Eve's visit, just goes about her day, and her business and her life like normal.

She knows a lot about second chances. About burning bridges. About starting over. Adalind did too, and she thinks that was one of things that helped them to bond, to understand one another. How you can do awful things but still be sincere in wanting to change your life, be better. How you can be successful if you have the right people behind you, supporting you.

She and Monroe go to their appointment with these thoughts still churning in her mind. He's been to a couple of appointments now with her, but he still acts as though it's the first one. His knee jiggles impatiently and he thumbs through a pamphlet on nutrition while he waits. The time before that was a pamphlet on birth defects, and that had been a fun-filled few weeks after that, especially at bedtime when Monroe had time to muse aloud and at length until Rosalee finally told him to shut up. The time before that was high-blood pressure during pregnancy, and she really wishes the obstetrics office would just throw all the pamphlets away, for everyone's sake.

She says this because Monroe has the tendency to read parts of them aloud so everyone around them can hear, and she can tell she's not the only mother or new father nervous about the information he's imparting. It's a Wesen obstetrician they're seeing, one with some experience with mixed families like theirs, so she feels like they're in good hands.

"It says here that you should eat plenty of beans, lentil, chickpeas—you know I have a great lentil soup recipe passed down from my great, great, great uncle Armin, I mean, he puts meat in it. It still will taste all right, I guess, maybe if we substitute the meat for eggplant or—"

"Eve's losing her powers," Rosalee interrupts. Monroe lowers the pamphlet.

"What?"

"Eve. She's losing her powers. The Hexenbiest is going away, or whatever it does."

"What?" he says again, looking at her.

"She came to see me, the other day, after you'd left. She needed some help finding a spell to strengthen her powers."

"Why would she want to do that? She never wanted to be a Hexenbiest. You think this is because of the stick?" he whispers.

"I don't know, but yeah, I do. We don't know anything about what it does."

"Did you find a spell?" Monroe asks.

"Rosalee?" a nurse calls, popping her head into the waiting room.

"That's us," Rosalee says, gathering her coat and purse and leading the way. Monroe follows after a moment and the subjects is dropped for the time being, but Rosalee reflects she didn't bother to ask why Eve was trying to hang onto her powers. She hadn't cared.

"Okay, so today we're hoping we can finally find out the sex of the baby," the ultrasound tech says to them, smiling.

"That's the plan," Monroe says, taking a seat beside Rosalee. The tech gets to work, twisting some knobs on her machine before they get started. "Hey did you know that back in medieval times, the sex of the baby was determined by a number of factors: What time of day it was at conception; Early in the morning meant you were having a boy; or the way you walked. If you stepped off with your right foot first you were having a boy. The _Distaff Gospels_ said that you should sprinkle salt on the woman's head, gently while she's sleeping so she's not aware of it, and then note what name she says first when she's wakes. If it's a male name it's a boy, and if it's a girl's name she's carrying a girl."

"I hope you haven't been sprinkling any salt on me while I've been asleep," Rosalee says to him suspiciously, and the tech smiles in amusement.

Monroe shakes his head. "I couldn't remember where I hid the salt," he says, slightly chagrinned and the tech laughs outright. Monroe had decided to hide it when he had read the pamphlet on hypertension in pregnancy and the correlation of salty foods.

"Serves you right," Rosalee says.

"All right," the tech interrupts, "Let's get some jelly on you and get started."

She squeezes a thick line of jelly out onto Rosalee's stomach, and moves the ultrasound wand through it. The jelly's cold, but warms as she moves the wand around, and both Monroe and Rosalee fall silent, each holding their breath as they watch the monitor next to the tech.

"Got a good strong heartbeat," the tech remarks, pointing at a portion of the screen where the heart is.

"That's a good thing," Monroe says.

"It is," the tech agrees. "Let's see what else we can see." She passes the wand over and around, pointing out the features she can distinguish, an arm, a hand, the head. Some of them Rosalee can make out and some of them she goes along with what the tech has said. Monroe seems lost on most of them, although he gets excited when he can spot a limb, and identify it, especially before the tech does.

"Well," the tech says, "I don't see a third arm anywhere."

"Well, that's a good thing," Monroe proclaims, and he's definitely thinking of some Wesen he's heard of that possesses one. Rosalee's afraid to ask, before she realizes what the tech is hinting at.

"It's a girl?" she asks. Monroe snaps his mouth shut and looks at Rosalee.

"It's a girl," the tech confirms.

"We're having a girl?" Monroe repeats.

"Yup, get ready for all the pink you can stomach."

"A girl?" Monroe says again.

"Yes," the tech says, looking at him.

"I'm having a girl."

"We—" Rosalee reminds him.

"We're having a girl," Monroe corrects quickly.

"Yes. See? Right there," the tech says pointing and both Monroe and Rosalee sit up and squint at the monitor.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," Monroe says, the understatement of the year.

"It's what you're not looking at," the tech explains.

"There's no schlong," Rosalee tells him and Monroe blushes as he finally gets their meaning.

"Oh."

"Everything looks good," the tech announces. I'll let you get cleaned up and then you can pick up your ultrasound pics in just a few minutes."

"Okay."

"We're having a girl," Monroe breathes, looking stunned.

"Are you okay?" she asks him, a little worried.

"Am I okay? Am I okay?" he asks her and Rosalee nods, as she wipes the goo off her belly. "I'm wonderful!" he exclaims, smiling. "We're having a girl!"

"Okay, say it louder, I don't think the fourth floor heard you," she tells him.

"Sorry," Monroe apologizes, looking serious for a moment, but then the smile splits his face again. Rosalee gets herself back in order, and she and Monroe head out the door, stopping at the desk to grab the ultrasound pics, and verify their next appointment, as Monroe proceeds to tell everyone he comes into contact with that they're having a girl. Monroe hovers as she's (carefully) seated into his volkswagon and then their headed home.

"Dude, will you just chill," she tells him after he tells the car stopped next to them at a stoplight he's having a girl. The passengers just smile agreeably as the driver leans over and whispers something to the front passenger and a second later the window rolls up and the car drives off in a squeal of tires.

"The miracle of life, asshole!" Monroe hollers after them and Rosalee looks at him.

"Sorry, I'm excited," he says, driving off, carefully and slowly, Rosalee notes.

"Would you be this excited if it were a boy?" she wonders. She has a feeling he'd be even more so, and that's hard to fathom at this point.

"Are you kidding me? I'd be excited if it were a…a…schneetmacher."

"Really? I'd be worried if it were that," Rosalee comments.

"Actually, so would I," Monroe says. "What schneetmacher's do you know and why have they been coming around?" he asks in a mock stern tone. "Aren't you excited? I'm excited!" he comments.

"I know. And yes, I'm excited," she says, turning to look out the window.

"Are you?" he asks, glancing at her. "You don't seem like it."

"I am," she insists, wondering if she says it enough will that make it true.

"I mean, in four months we're going to have a tiny, beautiful, little Rosalee, or Maria, or Francesca, or Claudia," he tries.

"Ugh, still no on the Claudia," Rosalee shakes her head.

"Well, whatever we decide to call her. What could be more wonderful than that?" he announces, looking at her in wonder and Rosalee manages a wan smile.

"Not much," she says, because she knows it's the answer Monroe's looking for.

"Not anything."

%%%%%

"See that?" Monroe points. "That! That right there!" Monroe says stabbing at the ultrasound pic with his finger. Hank and Trubel squint and lean in.

"I don't see anything," Hank says.

"I think it's upside-down," Trubel tells him, and Hank flips it around.

"It's not upside down," Monroe tells them, snatching it back.

"Then what am I looking at?" Hank asks him.

"Nothing!"

Both Hank and Trubel pull back and give him a look.

"Then why are you showing us this?"

"Because! We're having—"

"Because we're having a girl," Rosalee interrupts, spoiling the announcement.

"Rosalee," Monroe whines.

"You're having a girl? Congratulations," Wu says, taking a bite of an egg roll.

"That's so cool," Trubel tells them.

"That's great," Hank agrees, and Josh nods his approval as he forks a heap of noodles into his mouth.

"Thanks," Rosalee says.

"Hey where's Eve? She wasn't able to make it?" Wu asks Trubel and Trubel looks around confused. "I thought you were bringing her Josh."

Josh shakes his head. "I told her about dinner at Rosalee's but she said she had something to do."

The piece of food Rosalee just consumed suddenly tastes like ashes in her mouth.

"She's missing out."

"Hey didn't you say that Eve told you she was having some problems?" Monroe says suddenly, remembering their conversation in the waiting room.

"She's not here probably because I told her I didn't want to see her anymore," Rosalee says quietly.

"What happened?" Trubel asks, looking concerned.

Rosalee stirs her fork through some rice before laying it down.

"She came to me for some help, and I…I just unloaded."

"About Nick?"

"About everything," Rosalee says, and everyone's quiet, processing that.

"What did she come to you for help about?" Hank ventures.

Rosalee sighs. "She's—something's wrong. Ever since Nick used that stick on her she says it's affected her and she wanted to know if I could help her find some answers."

"Board Juliette back up?" Wu asks, and everyone looks at him. "What? I can't be the only who's noticed she makes an appearance now from time to time."

"Yeah, something like that. Anyway, I don't know, I just…went off."

"Long overdue, I'd say," Monroe says, and Rosalee nods.

"I know, after everything…still, I feel really bad," Rosalee admits. "I know why she did what she did, what she did, but I can't seem to figure out what it even is that I want from her."

"Join the club," Trubel says around a mouthful of food. "I know what she did to Nick, and to you and Monroe, and everything, but I also know how kind she used to be when she was Juliette. Even as Eve, we found a middle ground. I mean now that Juliette's back, I don't know what to believe. That she can be Juliette again and everything can be okay? I mean, look at Adalind. She's a hexenbiest and she did horrible stuff and she's able to control it."

"She was terrified she couldn't," Rosalee argues.

"But she did," Trubel counters and Rosalee nods, conceding the point. "You _can_ control it. But even if she can and can go back to being Juliette can I ever forgive her for what she did to Nick? How do you get past that?"

"You don't," Hank says, but he looks as conflicted as everyone else.

"As Juliette, before, she helped us," Wu points out, "and as Eve she helped us. We need her help," he points out.

"I know," Rosalee says. "I just don't know if I can stand and listen to it. The apologies, the reasons, I just don't want to hear it. Nothing is ever going to make it okay that she almost killed Monroe and she's responsible for Nick's mom."

"Don't you think she knows that?" Trubel says.


	17. Part Four - Chapter Two

"Thanks for coming," Rosalee says stiffly as she holds the door to the spice shop open for her. It's early morning, about two hours before she normally opens, and the shop is empty except for her and Rosalee.

"Thanks for inviting me," Eve replies. She looks at Rosalee warily, and other than that emotion, she makes sure that it's Eve who's firmly on display, calling the shots this time. Letting Juliette take the reins didn't help anything last time. Eve takes a few steps in and listens as Rosalee relocks to the door and brushes past her to the counter, fidgeting with some papers. Eve can see a couple of books laid out, and what appears to be orders from customers. Eve looks around, cocking her head to the side, listening, verifying what she perceived earlier. They're alone.

"You said you might have found something that can help me?" Eve prompts when Rosalee remains silent.

Rosalee looks at her and nods. Eve regards her for a long moment, noticing the tense, but resolved, line of her shoulders. Rosalee meets her stare, trying to affect a neutral expression.

"What changed your mind?" Eve asks quietly.

"How do you do this?" Rosalee asks her, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

"You mean Eve and Juliette?" Eve prompts, but she can't imagine what else she might be referring to.

"Yeah," Rosalee says, and while the question was voiced with a tinge of derision, she looks genuinely curious as the answer.

Eve stares a moment longer, trying to get her thoughts in order. She's sorely tempted to just give a short, bland, impersonal answer, especially since Rosalee didn't seem to care last time what her feelings were about anything. Still, it's not the answer she goes with.

"I can't control it anymore," she answers honestly. "I used to be able to keep it pushed way down, so it didn't affect me. I had to. In order to function, I needed to believe that that was someone else. They were like someone else's memories, but somewhere…the thing Nick used, it broke something inside me. I can't keep the memories, the feelings, hidden anymore."

Rosalee's quiet, digesting this, her brow crinkling as her lips set into a thin line.

"So what do you do?" Rosalee asks. "If your powers are going away, isn't that a good thing? You never wanted this in the first place. Do you really want to stay Eve?"

"After everything's that's happened, can I live with being Juliette again," Eve counters. "Can you? Can any of you?"

They're both quiet, staring at each other for a long, long, time. It's the most honest she's been with anyone in a long time, admitting the crux of the problem aloud. She doesn't think she can live with herself.

She losing her powers and though she never wanted them she has to do something, they're in a middle of a fight for their lives in Portland and she's completely and utterly useless if she's just plain, old, human Juliette.

"I think I found a spell that will temporarily strengthen your powers, but I don't think it's going to stop you from permanently losing them, if that's what's happening," Rosalee tells her. "I'm not sure it will work though, if what you say is really happening. I don't know what the stick does, if it completely neutralizes the hexenbiest, or what."

"There's too much that's unknown about the stick," Eve tells her.

"Yeah, for one, like where it is now," Rosalee agrees, rubbing a hand across her brow. Eve nods slightly.

"We're fighting a war," Eve tells her. "I can't fight what we're up against as Juliette."

"This doesn't work, you might have to," Rosalee counters.

%%%%%

They study the spell Rosalee found in silence, Juliette reading over it carefully. It's in Adalind's mother's zaubertrank, a spell book that remains perpetually open on one of the shelves downstairs. Fortuitous since having a hexenbiest readily handy to open it might be in question now. Certainly Adalind's not around, and Eve's not sure if one day that she will still have enough power to do it. She hasn't tried any blood spells lately.

"I'm not sure what this means," Rosalee murmurs, pointing to a section of the text they've been trying to decipher. They think they have it translated, but their interpretation doesn't make sense and they've been trying to figure out what Adalind's ancestors were referring to. "Adalind would probably know," Rosalee murmurs. "She was always really good at this."

Yes, she certainly knew how to cast some doozies of a spell, Eve thinks sarcastically. Or more accurately, Juliette thinks. She glances up at Rosalee, but Rosalee's still staring down at the book, deep in concentration, a fleetingly sad expression on her face.

Rosalee misses Adalind.

She had wondered if the closeness, the time spent in each other's company, was something that was done as a favor to Nick, but she thinks now that Rosalee genuinely liked Adalind, even after everything she did. Rosalee was always one who was willing to listen, be more open-minded, than probably any of them.

"You miss Adalind," Eve says quietly.

"I miss both of them. All of them," Rosalee counters. "But, yeah," she says, looking at Eve. "I miss Adalind. She turned out to be a good friend once we were both able to move past everything that happened."

Eve's silent, trying to look like she's not affected by Rosalee's words.

"I've always believed in second chances," Rosalee says suddenly. "Looking back on my life—I was hardly perfect. I did some horrible things, kept company with some horrible people. I was ashamed of myself, and my life, and then Freddie helped me get clean, get my life on track. When I came up here, after he died…Nick…Monroe, they helped me stay on track. I made mistakes. Adalind made mistakes. She did some horrible things, but she was sincere, you know, after Kelly was born, about putting that behind her and making a good life for Kelly. A good life with Nick, and when the hexenbiest was suppressed you could see how sweet and funny she really was. How much she loved Kelly. And how much she loved Nick," Rosalee says, and it hangs in the air for a moment between them.

"You've made mistakes, too," Rosalee continues. "Some far bigger and more devastating than either Adalind or I. I don't know if what you've done, after everything, if I can ever forgive you."

"I understand," Eve says dispassionately, but she's having a hard time keeping her emotions in check. Tears are threatening, as is Juliette.

"But I can't help remembering, that in my darkest hour, even when I didn't deserve it, someone remembered who I used to be, and gave me the chance to be that person again. Gave me the opportunity to have all this," she says, waving her hand around before laying it on her stomach. "I don't know if I can live with you as Juliette again and not see all the bad," she admits harshly, "if we can ever put what happened behind us, but I know I can't live with myself if I don't give you the same opportunity that Freddie, and Monroe and Nick, gave me."

Eve's very still. Moisture fills her eyes, but she manages this time to not let any tears fall. She made that mistake before and Rosalee had lashed out.

"Thank you," she whispers, because she needs to say something, and she's manages to utter the words devoid of any emotion.

"Don't thank me yet," Rosalee warns sharply. "I really don't know if I can ever move past what you did, but I can't keep hanging on to all this bitterness and anger. Life's too short and I don't want my daughter around any more of it than what we're already dealing with here in the city."

Eve looks up suddenly. Daughter?

"Congratulations," she manages, a bit robotically. The news stuns her. She'd detected the pregnancy long before Rosalee and Monroe announced it, but like everything else that was and has been going on, there were more immediate things happening at the time. A daughter.

Rosalee raises her eyes to Eve's suspiciously and nods once in acknowledgement.

"Anyway, that's what changed my mind," Rosalee mutters, pulling her eyes away and looking down at the text.

Eve stares at her bent head wordlessly.

%%%%%

They spend about an hour total, looking at the spell. Eve takes her leave when Rosalee gets her first customer of the day, slipping out the door while she's busy, though she makes sure that Rosalee spots her as she leaves.

She's glad to be gone, away from the cloying feeling she has in the spice shop, especially after everything that was said there today. She needs a break, some time away, so she can get her emotions under control.

She doesn't know what to think of Rosalee said. Is it really an olive branch she's holding out to her? The possibility to be Juliette again. She still doesn't know how to even think of herself – Eve, or Juliette. She was Juliette for so many years, but so much bad now is associated with her, with that name, that she finds it so much easier to be Eve.

Eve doesn't let emotion trouble her. Eve's no nonsense.

Eve feels like a fraud.

She's Juliette, in all her flawed misery, but accepting that is more difficult than she ever imagined, and she never thought after everything that happened, that it would be easy.

She feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and she can no longer wear Eve and feel like it fits anymore, either.

What do you even do when you can't accept who you even are?

Do you invent a third person, not associated with either one of the others? Can she split her personality one more time and not have it destroy her completely? Can she keep the others at bay?

She doesn't have the energy to reinvent herself as somebody new. Which means she has to live with herself, as either one of the two identities already established. She thinks of Rosalee's words. She tries to reflect on that person before the Hexenbiest raged within her. Juliette had been caring, warm, funny, smart. She had been someone Nick had easily fallen in love with—someone he had hit it off immediately with when he had arrived to take her statement on the hit and run.

The Juliette Nick loved was a good person, feisty and sophisticated, devoted and loving, and innocent. The hexenbiest who took over had been bitter, angry, confused, and vengeful.

The Eve that resulted was mechanical, unemotional, and distant.

She longs for the distance and unemotionality that made being her so bearable, so welcome, after everything. It was so good not to feel.

Could she ever be, with the weight of all her sins pressing down on her, warm and caring again? Loving?

She would certainly never be innocent again.

Could anyone else ever see her the way she had once been?

She arrives at the loft, where she and Trubel and Josh have been staying since returning from out east.

"Hey," Trubel says, interrupting her thoughts. "Where have you been?"

"Out," Eve says. "Rosalee called," she explains a second later.

"Oh, okay," Trubel replies, dark brown eyes looking at her curiously. "Josh and I were just about to get some breakfast. You want to join us?"

Eve looks past Trubel at Josh, shrugging into a wrinkled button up thrown over a T-shirt. It's one of Nick's old ones. His hair's a mess of untamed curls and he looks as though he's still not sleeping. He spends a lot of time at the spice shop for them, researching the Wesen cases that Hank and Wu are given. He's been trying to make himself useful, but she can tell he's still struggling to find his place in the group, in this world, when he so obviously doesn't fit anywhere.

 _Join the club,_ Eve thinks.

"No, thank you, you guys go ahead."

"Okay. Want us to bring you anything?" Trubel asks and Eve shakes her head.

"All right, change your mind, you know how to reach me."

Josh flashes her a smile and he and Trubel turn and head out, closing the elevator gate with a noisy clang. Eve looks around the space and wonders if her quest to find who she is now would be better served in someplace that wasn't Nick's loft. Trubel and Josh, and thus Eve, have taken to using it as their new barracks since H.W. was destroyed. Eve also suspects that one of Trubel's main purposes in staying there is so she doesn't miss Nick in case he ever comes back.

If he's ever coming back.

She looks around slowly. It hasn't changed much since anyone last saw him. There's about a dozen or so less bodies lying on the floor, but most of the space, despite being devoid of its former occupants for months now still looks and feels as though they live there.

It had never been much to look at it, barren, and cold, and completely functional. Yet, somehow, it had been a home to Nick and Adalind and their son, and even managed to feel like one. The mugs in the sink they found, two of them, from whenever the last time Nick and Adalind had shared a coffee together. The baby bottles lined up on a drying rack next to the sink. Baby clothes in the dresser drawer. Nick's clothes in a metal wardrobe. Adalind's next to his.

One of Nick's coats hanging on a peg by the elevator gate. A bottle of baby lotion on the nightstand and a necklace of Adalind's. One of Adalind's bras had been thrown over the shower rod in the bathroom before Trubel moved it. Nick's razor on the sink next to a cup with two toothbrushes and a hair clip beside it.

The smell of Nick and Adalind on the double bed.

Josh sleeps there now, Trubel refusing to take the bed that was Nick's, and Eve completely unable to do so and maintain her tenuous grip on her sanity. Trubel slept on an air mattress on the floor, while Eve had taken the single bed that Nick had laid her upon when she had been gravely injured by her fight with Bonaparte.

She spends a lot of time in the tunnels, navigating around them, wondering if Nick had explored more than he let on, or if he gone through after the fight with Bonaparte, and moved the stick to somewhere else in the maze, but so far in her quest to locate the stick, she's turned up empty.

She thinks about moving out, finding a place of her own where she's not confronted with the vestiges of Nick's life beyond her every day, but though she feels alone, she doesn't want to actually _be_ alone. She's afraid that if she found someplace by herself that she'd never see any one of her former friends again.

Trubel might visit, maybe Hank and Wu if they needed her for a case, but the reality is she's still clinging to them, however subtly, as Juliette. She needs the familiarity and it's a special kind of hell she's made for herself trying to keep them close and knowing they mostly can't stand the sight of her, now that Juliette's back in the picture.

They're all trying to pretend it's okay, but she almost wishes they'd all just stop. Take a page out of Rosalee's book and just get it all out there, let it lie there and fester and rot on the table. She's tried to initiate a conversation a couple of times, to bring up the past, but no one wants to relive it, or acknowledge it, now that everyone's managed to get it buried down so deeply, and she's usually cut off whenever she does. The fact that the only time they all meet now is basically when the city's burning down around them also helps to keep the focus on whatever crisis they're averting.

Most of the others have left Monroe and Rosalee alone, respectful of the life she's carrying and the precariousness of protecting it while they're persona non grata in Portland. Monroe still occasionally gets sucked in (usually without Rosalee's knowledge), but Rosalee's been pretty adamant about leaving her out of it, and despite the fact it's to protect her baby, her daughter, she feels like Rosalee is struggling like everyone else to keep her head above water.

What should be a happy occasion for her and Monroe has not been, at least for Rosalee.

She doesn't know if it's because of what's going on around them, the loss of Nick and Adalind and Kelly affecting her, or she's just not as excited about being pregnant as Monroe clearly is, but she's depressed.

Still, knowing that fact, doesn't help Eve figure out what to do about it.

Or if even if she did figure it out that the solution would be welcome.

%%%%%

She spends a lot to time going through the spell Rosalee found, and then weeks trying to procure all the ingredients. Some of them are difficult and time consuming to find. None of them are, fortunately, dead hexenbiest, something that Rosalee seems profoundly relieved about for some reason. Eve gathers it was a key ingredient in the suppressant they wanted to use on Juliette and she wonders why Adalind wasn't the dead hexenbiest in question, but then again, she had been pregnant with Nick's son and no doubt he wasn't going to risk that.

He hadn't let Juliette risk that.

It's been quiet for a long time on that front, and mostly nobody talks much about it anymore. If something changes it's understood someone will bring the subject up again, but now what happened to Nick and his family is a mystery they've had to lay to rest, each of them with varying degrees of success. Rosalee's through her second trimester and things seem to have gotten a little better on that front, though Eve still thinks she's struggling with her feelings on having a child in Portland's current climate, especially now that her due date is looming large.

She's mentioned a couple of times about her and Monroe moving closer to her mother and sister.

Renard is six months into his reign of terror on Portland and it's going badly. His own people are turning against him and he's fighting a battle on every front. It's cutthroat business and the crime rate is so high that people are starting to flee the city. Renard's realizing that it's hard to be a leader when you don't have anyone who wants to follow you, and at the rate he's going, and with all the bad press the city's getting, if he doesn't get a handle on what's going on, he's going to find himself a victim of his very own assassination.

Something that they discussed at one point.

"Kill Renard?" Hank had said, looking at Trubel and Eve.

"I'm all for it," Wu said.

"I think so is most of the city," Monroe chimed in.

"What happens when you kill Renard? He's like the monster whose head keeps growing back. Somebody else will take his place."

"That somebody won't be Renard, though," Hank says thoughtfully.

"No, it might be somebody worse."

It was difficult to imagine the possibility, but ultimately the idea had been scrapped due to technical difficulties, not the least of which was being able to get to their target.

Renard's well-aware he's unpopular, and he doesn't go anywhere without a full team of security, and that's if he goes anywhere at all. Rumor has it there has been one attempt on his life already, an attempt he foiled and punished himself as a message to others as what happens to someone who tries to double-cross him.

So, it shouldn't be completely surprising when, one day, while Eve is trying to procure a jar of _bestraut spitzmaus darm_ , that someone from Renard's inner circle approaches her.

A tall, thickly built man gets out of a black Tahoe and approaches her. He's carrying a pistol and he's dressed in a crisp white shirt and a black suit. He has dark, black hair, even darker with the amount of hair product slicking it back. Eve turns back to the street rat she was trying to make a deal with. He looks at the man behind her and recoils.

"The mayor would like to see you."

"Tell him to make an appointment with my secretary," she calls over her shoulder.

"I'm afraid that answer isn't going to be acceptable."

"Well, you're just going to have to disappoint him, then. Let him down easy for me."

"I don't think you understand," he continues.

"Um, I gotta get going," the kid says nervously, looking around.

"You're not going anywhere," she tells him. "Until we figure this out." His eyes dart wildly about him as he considers his options, and Eve manages to grab hold of him telekinetically before he can move.

"Ahh!" he yelps.

"Now," the man behind her says loudly.

"I'm busy," she calls back, never taking her eye off the kid. It does a great job on conveying her seriousness, but it's mostly because if she takes her concentration off him she'll lose her grip on him.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist," the man says ominously, as he takes another step forward, and the kid in front of her is fairly shaking. The man behind her is almost beside her now, and he woges, revealing the snarling face of a hundjager, naturally, and as she glances at him she loses her hold on the kid, and the kid bolts.

Great. It took her two weeks to track him down, and now she's lost him.

"Let's go," the hundjager instructs. "No one has to get hurt."

"Except maybe you," she says, turning to face him. She woges, and flings her arm out, succeeding in throwing the man back against the car, a good twenty feet away, but it was still a good eighty feet short of what she intended. Her powers are definitely weakening, she notes worriedly, and she's not sure how long she can fight a hundjager without cluing him into the fact. She needs to get the final ingredients for the booster spell she and Rosalee are planning to concoct before anyone realizes she's vulnerable.

If anyone cares.

He regains his footing, still snarling angrily as Eve does her best to remain in 'biest mode.

"Juliette," she hears and she sees Sean Renard step from the vehicle a moment later. He's dressed in a camel colored long wool coat and a polished and pressed suit. It's the first time anyone in their group has seen him in person in months. She snarls warningly at him when he makes to move forward and join the fray. He steps back and holds up his hands placatingly.

"Or Eve, is it still?" he says. "Hear me out."

%%%%%

The mayor's home office is a stately affair, complete with the expected patriotism, the state and country's flags on one side of the window, and a rich, ornate desk in the center of the room. Eve saunters around the room, looking carefully at the artifacts on the bookshelves and the objects on the desk, which are very few. Laptop computer, phone, and a desk planner.

"What? No picture of the wife and kids?" Eve can't help herself from asking and Renard frowns at her.

"Cute," he says, stopping at bar off to the side and pouring himself a brandy. He spills some in a second glass and hands it to her. "I would have thought Eve wouldn't care one way or another whether Adalind was with me. Certainly, I would think that Juliette would prefer it. So, to which one am I speaking to?"

"Either one would care when you take Nick's son from him, but I told you before, my name is Eve."

"I didn't take Nick's son. Adalind did."

Eve accepts the drink, but merely keeps a hold of it. Sean takes a sip of his, then holds a hand out, indicating a pair of chairs in front of the desk and Eve looks at it and then him.

"Why have you asked me here?"

"Take a seat, please."

She stares at him, feeling a little unsettled, but that's Juliette peeking through the layers. Eve wouldn't be worried about what game Sean is playing here. Eve's in control. She takes a seat in the proffered chair.

"I understand you're searching for Nick," he begins.

"I understand _you're_ searching for Nick. Not having any luck, are you?"

"Are _you_?"

"Nick's gone underground," she says, buying time. "He'll come out when he's ready, when you're ready to make a deal," she hedges.

"Oh, really? There's been nothing for months. Are you sure he's even alive?" he asks, amusement playing on his lips, looking down at his drink, before raising his eyes back to hers.

"Given the state of Portland, you better hope so," she says blandly and Sean frowns and sets his drink down.

"And just what does this deal entail? His full pardon?"

"And your removal from office."

"Of course," he agrees sardonically. "How are things with the others? Rosalee and Monroe, and Hank and Wu and all the rest. I would think these last few months have been difficult. Labeled as Grimm sympathizers."

 _By you_ , she thinks, but says nothing.

"And you, I'm sure things have been especially difficult now that The Wall is no longer an active presence in Portland. Must be lonely," he comments. "I mean, Trubel, of course, can offer some company, but the others, well, I doubt they've been making you feel welcome. Not after everything you've done. Or, excuse me, she's done. Must be so awkward, those get togethers. Still you can't blame the others if they have a hard time separating the two of you. You were Juliette for so long and now Eve. I should imagine forgiveness is kind of hard."

"What do you want?" she repeats.

"I have always treated you well. Your special talents would be utilized and appreciated, you would be welcomed here, and, despite everything that's happened, I think we can both say we've had a good relationship over the years."

"What are you saying?"

"You're one of us. Why are you fighting a losing battle?"

"Who says that we are?" she asks him. He smirks.

"Biding your time, are you?" he says, smiling. He sobers. "You're minus one Grimm. Trubel might be able to chop off a few heads, but she's not going to amass enough to make a difference. Hank and Wu are busy fighting their own battles down at the station, and it doesn't seem like Monroe and Rosalee are interested in risking their baby's future to help maintain law and order. And you…you're clearly searching for a purpose. Even went all the way out east, I hear. I'll save you the trouble of any more trips. I'm giving you one."

"Helping you?"

"We can do great things together."

%%%%%


	18. Part Four - Chapter Three

"How'd it go with the Hexenbiest?"

"Well, I think."

"So, she agreed?"

"She's thinking about it."

"Well, I fail to see how that constitutes your optimism, Mr. Mayor." Sean finishes off his tumbler of whiskey and sets it back on the bar with a clatter. Bonaparte is dead, but what is left is almost worse than being under the thumb of the Zauberbiest. His mayoral team is composed of hand-picked members of Bonaparte's organization and influence and several of them have become thorns in his side.

Whistler is one of them. He's conniving, devious, and while those are normally traits Sean would admire and prefer in someone working for his team, it's becoming more and more clear Whistler's not one he admires. He's got reports that Whistler is working some deals of his own on the side, and that one of them may have been the recent assassination attempt on him.

Sean's already taken care of making an example out of the would-be shooter to the Wesen population, but tracking down who approached him in the first place has been a little more difficult. Whoever contracted him out did an excellent job of covering their tracks.

Again, normally traits Sean prefers in the people working for him.

He's heard about Eve's methods. An hour with Whistler, and Sean has no doubt she'd find out the answer. Even better she could take care of the problem without Sean having to soil his hands any further on pesky Wesen matters.

He's also heard that Eve seems to be having a hard time of it with Nick's friends. The most time she spends with anyone is the Grimm Trubel, and even that isn't very frequent. Trubel's been busy trying to maintain some order in Portland, and Eve's been skulking about, popping up occasionally and then disappearing again. She's been running all around Portland, but Sean has yet to uncover what, exactly, her purpose is with it.

"Did she say anything about the Grimm?" Whistler asks.

"Said he's underground. Biding his time for the right moment."

Whistler snorts. "You believe her?"

"No. They don't have any idea where he is." Of that, he's certain. If Nick was going to strike he would have struck sooner. Which leaves the troubling matter of what's happened to him, and more importantly his daughter.

"Weird, isn't it. Isn't the other Grimm that's here connected to him? Why isn't he helping her?"

"Probably because he's dead."

"You believe that?"

Sean stares out the window for a moment. It's been over seven months since anyone's seen or heard anything from Nick. He can't imagine Nick being gone for that amount of time, not when his friends could use his protection. Monroe and Rosalee are expecting, if nothing else, given how he reacted with the Wesenrein, he would return to help keep an eye on them. Maybe he needs to turn up the heat again on Monroe and Rosalee, try to draw him out. Except he'd done that for months and nothing had become of it.

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Then why have you got people still looking for him? Why do you care?"

"They can't have just vanished into thin air!" he half-shouts, irritated. "My daughter's with him, that's why I care."

At least he thinks Diana's with Nick. Now, after so much time, he doesn't know anymore. But if Diana wasn't with Nick, then where was she? Given how much she wanted to be with her mother and father, he can't imagine that she'd allow herself to be kept away from him. Was she just with Adalind? Had Adalind worked something, a spell? Given Diana's powers versus Adalind's he didn't think she was strong enough, but maybe she'd figured something out. And there's still the question of what happened to Nick. Maybe Diana took care of him, knowing he was an obstacle in the way of her dream of a perfect family. He doesn't know anymore, and not having the answers is grating on him.

"That's one Grimm out of Portland. Let's focus on getting the other one gone," Whistler says.

"Yeah, let's do that. Tell me, how's that going for you?" Sean asks with a smirk. Trubel, with some help from Eve, managed to take the heads of nearly everyone in Whistler's dragoons, except for one, which she left alive to give him a message. She certainly learned her flair for the dramatic from Nick.

Whistler scowls, face rippling and scales showing for a moment before he gets himself under control again. Sean glares back.

"That's why we need her. We convince Eve to join us, she can help us. She's searching for a place to fit in. The Wall's in shambles and her own friends, or former friends, are struggling to accept her."

"An you think she'll get rid of the Grimm?"

"Get rid of the Grimm, or maybe, convince the Grimm to help us." Although, Trubel's a far shakier prospect than Nick to leverage. There's no emotional ties, really, for her. She's distant, and smart enough to understand it's to her benefit to remain that way, despite some of Nick's influences. She's more likely to remain so with those around her.

"Only good Grimm is a dead one."

"She could help you clean up that mess in the south precinct," Sean reminds him mildly.

"You mean your mess."

Sean glances sharply at him, not caring for the defiance. Whistler meets his eye.

"The bodies keep piling up, Mr. Mayor. Your constituents are clamoring for the matter to be dealt with and it looks like you're just turning a blind eye to it. The latest polls show that the people of Portland are losing confidence in your ability to handle the crime and everything that's going on in their city."

"I handled the crime in Portland for years. In fact, when I was in charge of it, we had one of the lowest crime rates in fifty years. If crime is increasing, maybe it's because your man Hendrick is unfit to do the job."

"Bonaparte's man. Carefully selected to replace you before his death. And that means he's your man, too, Mr. Mayor. Hendrick is doing what he's supposed to do: Keeping your detectives in line, and keeping an ear peeled for any sign of the Grimm, or your daughter."

"And has he found any?"

Whistler's lips press into a thin line.

"Hendrick needs to focus his attention a little more on what's going on around him rather than spending his days lining his pockets. Maybe expend a little effort and try doing his job."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" Sean asks testily.

"When are you going to start doing your job? The public is calling for action. We need to make it seem like you're trying to make changes, positive steps." Sean eyes him angrily for a moment, taking the time to calm himself before he speaks.

"I am trying to make changes. And convincing The Wall's most dangerous weapon to join our side is an important first step. Whether you see it or not we need her on our side."

"You're right, I don't see it."

"You don't need to. Your job is to give all the relevant news of the day, not to be a visionary." Whistler's face ripples again and he bares his teeth.

"Well, then, I reiterate Mr. Mayor: Your latest numbers are concerning. The people of Portland are losing confidence in your abilities to manage the situation here. As are we."

And there it is, the veiled threat of others in the organization who are still capable of making life difficult for Sean. Others that can still pull strings if he doesn't figure out how to cut himself free from them.

"Meaning what? It's three years until the next election—"

"Provided you live that long," Whistler interrupts and Sean fixes him with another flat stare. It's looking more and more likely that Whistler was behind the attempt on Sean's life, Sean thinks, and that means he's going to have to deal with it. "At the rate you're going—the discord among the population—just because the last attempt didn't work out, doesn't mean that someone isn't bound to get lucky sometime."

"About that, how's the investigation going into who hired Nikolai? Hendrick getting anything done there?"

"He's looking into several promising leads," Whistler answers smoothly. "I think he indicated he would have something shortly."

"Can't wait to hear it," Sean says dryly. He's mildly curious who Whistler and Hendrick will hang out to dry for the crime. "Anything else?"

"No, Mr. Mayor, that is all."

Whistler tips his head slightly, a sort of mock bow for the bastard prince in power, and leaves.

Sean pours himself another tumbler of liquor and takes a seat in the padded desk chair.

Whistler's going to have to be dealt with. Letting that kind of insubordination fester in the ranks isn't good, but he wonders what will rise up in his stead when he does. So many people claiming or jockeying to be the next Bonaparte, but who's really the one he should be worried about?

%%%%%

Life in the mayor's house is lonely, though he's surrounded by people, most of which he doesn't trust. He only has to open his door and shout and someone will be there in moments, usually security, but there's also a revolving door of aides, interns, and servants. The place is huge, stately, full of grandeur, but it usually feels cold and empty. He's hosted only a couple of benefits at his mansion, so most of the time he's only entertaining his own interests.

He wears a path from his bedroom to his downstairs office, usually spending most of his time there, going over things, plotting his moves, and researching, especially when he finds himself awake in the middle of night.

It's another night of tossing and turning. He spends most of his nights now covertly bedding various interns (because how would it look with a fiancée and two kids missing and him polling the electorate, so to speak. Of course, he's just _devastated_ about Adalind and the kids), and going through the police reports from around the nation, looking for clues as to his daughter whereabouts. He keeps hoping something will ping on the radar, some unexplained phenomena that only an incredibly powerful hexenbiest can manage to do, but so far there's been nothing. Adalind's not exactly unskilled at disguising misdeeds, so if Diana's still with her mother—and Nick, who's no slouch in knowing what kinds of things police look for—it's likely if she has done anything it's been well hidden by one or both adults. Still, he takes it as a challenge to go through the stacks of files and see if he can determine if the case is Wesen related. Many are, just not the Wesen he's interested in.

There's also the fact that he doesn't really know what all Diana can do, so he's not always entirely sure what he's looking for. He suspects that will be another benefit of having Eve on his side. Her powers are incredibly powerful so he's hoping that will give him insight on what Diana's capabilities are, but there doesn't seem to be any limit to them, so mostly he's looking for seemingly incredible feats.

Manipulating and controlling people to commit acts against their will…

That's not something to be wasted. Used correctly, that could be incredibly beneficial in calming Portland down. Some of the noisier detractors can be handled efficiently by Eve, but those who require a little more finesse…

First, though, he's got to find out what happened to his daughter.

%%%%%

It's nearly two months later that he gets his first real lead that Diana may have left Portland alive.

He's thumbing through the nightly case files, and Sarah's placed a bright green post-it on a body that's popped up in Idaho.

A sheriff deputy, found with his car, in a remote area of woods. Coroner report states that his head looks like it had been "stuck in a vice" based on the amount of crushing and cave in of the skull. The body's mostly eroded or been consumed by animals, and in fact, some of him is missing, apparently parts of him dragged out of the confines of the vehicle.

It's the first time where he feels noticeably buoyed about what it could mean. He realizes how much the thought of his daughter being permanently gone from his life has weighed on him. There's hope that she may still be alive and close, and he sends a couple of his most trusted staff out to that area to conduct their own investigation into what may have happened. It's in southern Idaho, and Sean pulls out an Atlas and looks over the area carefully, wondering as to what led his daughter to that area.

If it is her.

If she's traveling with her mother, Adalind doesn't know anyone, at least that he's aware of, from Idaho, or even the Rocky Mountain area in general, but it's Nick's history, if she and his daughter are traveling with him like he suspects, that's always been the question mark. So much is unknown about his early years, particularly from the time his parents died to when he came to Portland and joined the police force. Nick's never talked much about it, at least with Sean, and Sean never had much reason to bring it up.

He understands that Nick's years with his aunt were largely sheltered and nomadic, so that leaves a lot of possibilities for where he, and more importantly, his daughter, can be.

All he can do, though, is ponder the possibilities until his reconnaissance team gets back to tell him the news about the body and the area. Though he's attributing the unusual state of the skull to his daughter's abilities, there are other Wesen who might be capable of such a feat, and even, though unlikely, other factors.

Still, it feels like her, what he knows of her and her abilities, and he's anxious to get more details.

It's been the better part of a year since his daughter disappeared. So much has changed, so much he could have shared with her, Adalind too, had she'd not been so focused on carrying her ill-advised torch for Nick, and had she'd been receptive to it. So much that could have gone differently with the support – maybe even help – of his daughter behind him. Even Adalind, who he feels he could have provided some help in keeping Black Claw in check. Assuming he convinced her to get with the program. Likely she would have used the defectors in his organization to her advantage. She was always stubborn, but with Diana with them, maybe she wouldn't or couldn't be so bold. Not to mention she didn't like being under Black Claw's control either, so there was some unity in facing a common enemy. The safety of her children was paramount, and he doubts that she would have pushed the issue too much with Kelly, at least, at stake. Diana could have helped with that.

He wonders how Adalind's faring with their daughter. Strange that after all this time this is the only clue he has as to his daughter, and a part of him wonders if it isn't just wishful thinking that this might be her. He's surprised there haven't been more bodies found like this, though he knows if she's traveling with Nick and Adalind how unlikely it is that they'd both be so careless, and he wonders what it means with how Nick is dealing with her.

Still, the body was well-hidden in a remote part of the forest, and judging by preliminary findings had been there for a while, though an exact time couldn't be established yet. He makes a note to look closer around the area and prospective routes leading to it for any other strange phenomena, resolving to go over it again, like he hasn't combed half of America and especially the western part of the united states a dozen times before looking for something peculiar.

He studies it for a little longer, the focus on the mystery making him feel closer to his daughter than he has in a long time until he's forced to give it up for the time being. He sets it aside, and pulls the folder containing the day's news that Whistler and his group compile for him at the end of each day.

Whistler.

He sits back, reflecting he still needs to make good on his promise to take care of him. He's another one that's highly skilled at covering his tracks, and though Sean's fairly certain it was him behind the assassination attempt months ago he's not been able to link anything concretely to him. Still, he's starting to outlive his usefulness and Sean is thinking it's high time he deals with the conniving weasel before he orchestrates another attempt. There's been an uptick in the movement against him, and Sean suspects Whistler's the reason for it. Where once it was random Wesen fighting against his policies, now there seems to be more rhyme and reason to it. Judges, state senators and representatives, and other officials have started to balk, demand more favors, or outright blackmail as they question his ability. He's already had one judge killed, and two other state officials threatened. It's exhausting trying to dam up all the leaks of support, not to mention he has the sneaking suspicion that Hendrick, and even possibly Hank and Wu are cataloging every strange murder or disappearance of anyone who publicly went against him. It wouldn't do to have the city's mayor embroiled in a murder investigation. There's too much that his enemies could do with that, and he's already fighting a battle on all fronts it seems. Still, it's high time he sends a message, to those like Hendrick.

Eve's assistance would have been extremely helpful, if she had taken him up on his offer, but she disappeared shortly after and only recently turned up again. Sean had wondered if she had been on another kick to find Nick. Maybe the discovery of the body in Idaho and her disappearance are not a coincidence? He always thought they didn't have any idea what happened to Nick either, judging more by their covert efforts and searches, rather than their straight up denials, but maybe she'd found something? Did Hank or Wu somehow got a hold of the information on the deputy or found out about the body even before he did?

If so, another mark against Hendrick.

Might it do, to have another conversation with Eve? He doesn't want to seem desperate, though, but the truth is he's getting there. He needs somebody powerful in his corner, an enforcer, somebody who can serve to remind the ungrateful public that he's not one to be trifled with.

Which brings him back to Whistler. It's high time he showed those that oppose him what happens when you conspire against him. Seems some people have forgotten.

%%%%%

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Whistler says smoothly. He's dressed in his usual impeccable style. A mini-me of Sean when he worked for the Portland P.D. His eyes glance over the documents on Sean's desk, one of them the folder about the deputy's body found in Idaho that Sean keeps reading over, trying to discern from the minimal information there if it's his daughter. No doubt Whistler's looking for clues as to why he's been called upon so late at night.

"Yes, have a seat," Sean says, glancing up momentarily, as he stands at the bar, trying to choose between a port or a brandy. He finally makes his decision, splashing some into two glasses, which he then moves over to the chair Whistler's settled in, and hands one of the drinks to him before taking the other for himself.

Like Eve, Whistler doesn't drink it, and Sean almost smiles in amusement.

"Sarah tells me you may have a lead on your daughter," Whistler says, nodding at the papers on Sean's desk.

"Possibly," Sean acknowledges. "Santini and Forman have gone to check into it."

"That's good news," Whistler says. "Perhaps that means you'll be reunited with her soon."

"I hope so," Sean replies, taking a leisured sip of his drink.

"Is there any sign she's with her mother and the Grimm?" Whistler asks him.

Sean shakes his head. "No. Honestly, I don't know. There really wasn't much information in the preliminary report," he admits. There were no mentions of fingerprints, or DNA found at the scene, on the body, or in the car, which makes Sean think Nick was involved somehow, making sure to wipe everything down, knowing what kind of information could be leaked back if he's careless. He almost hopes, if it's not Wesen, or Black Claw, or Royals, or, hell, even some random event, as the cause, that Diana's killed Nick. It would be one less issue to deal with—and it would make Adalind easier to control without her esteemed lover alive. Adalind in line, in turn, would make Diana easier to control, and if he has Diana, he doesn't need Nick, or anyone else, really, to get Portland under his thumb again.

Although, once Diana's back with Sean, she could make short work of Nick and any problems he might like to cause, if he is still alive.

 _If_ Diana gets back with him, he reminds himself.

"Anyway, that's not the reason why I called you here," Sean tells him, taking a seat behind his desk, glancing at the framed picture of his daughter, before focusing on Whistler.

"Oh?" Whistler responds politely, with a touch of curiosity. He comports himself very well, always has, Sean notes, and there's almost no concern detectable in his demeanor but for a subtle shift of the glass in his hand that let's Sean know he's wondering what's going on.

"Yes, I had been meaning to talk to you for a while, but just never had the opportunity to schedule a time—well, you know how busy I've been. I thought I would make it a point to carve out an evening where you and I could talk and go over some things. Uninterrupted."

"You have me at your disposal, Mr. Mayor. What's things did you have in mind?"

"Your failed attempt to kill me," Sean says bluntly, taking a sip of his drink.

"Excuse me?" Whistler replies.

Sean levels a look at him and says nothing.

"Mr. Mayor, I'm not sure where this accusation is coming from, but I can assure you I've never tried to kill you, sir."

"You? Personally? No, you're too smart to do that yourself, but we both know you're behind the attempt on me."

"Sir, I have always served you faithfully with the best interests of your mayorship and legacy in mind."

He reflects, as he lazily swirls the liquor in his glass, half-listening to Whistler and his excuses, that he and Whistler really are a lot alike. Not just the penchant for fine clothes, and the ability and desire to always want to move ahead, but in the way they view the world as justification for their behaviors. Really, if it wasn't for the unfortunate attempt to kill him, and his clear disdain for anything beyond Black Claw's increasingly short-sighted agenda, he would certainly be a great asset to have in his cabinet.

To try to mend fences now would mean Sean would always be wondering when he would find a knife in his back.

"It's unfortunate," Sean says aloud, interrupting Whistler.

"Sir?"

"What happened," Sean explains, chuckling a little. Whistler looks confused, clearly wondering at this change in demeanor. "I mean, really, with your connections and abilities – the way you covered your tracks, probably with help from Hendrick, I'm sure – we could have had an entirely different outcome, a different political sphere than the one we have now. Of course, we both want the same thing, don't we? Power. I guess when you consider that, our relationship was doomed from the start."

Whistler falls silent, the still untouched glass in his hand on the armrest of the chair. He regards Sean for a long moment as Sean continues.

"I mean, there's no way we can continue how we are, is there? At some point, if not now, you'll try again, or perhaps you'll go about it a different way. Maybe nothing so bold as a shot to the heart, but something subtler, that will destroy everything I've fought to achieve, to arrive at this point with or without Black Claw's help."

"You forget who got you here, Mr. Mayor," Whistler says quietly.

"I'm grateful for everything Black Claw has done," Sean replies with measured sarcasm, "but I never intended, nor did I agree, to comply with everything they desired or wanted in their vision of a Wesen run city. To that, I'm sorry," he says with a straight face. Whistler's darkens and the fingers gripping his glass turned red.

"Sorry, Mr. Mayor? You owe Black Claw a great debt and they intend to collect."

"Yes, well, we'll see about that, won't we? First though, we still need to address the reason why I called you here."

"Your allegations that I helped to orchestrate the assassination attempt on your life is baseless, not to mention insulting."

"No, what's insulting is the half-assed execution of it. Had you had any real skill in that arena, I'd be dead and we wouldn't even be having this conversation, now would we? Let me give you a little advice, my friend: when you have someone else do your dirty work for you, you should always take care that it will never lead back to you."

Whistler's scales ripple briefly, and his mouth sets into a thin line.

"You have no evidence I was a part of what happened."

"Did you know the detectives here are excellent? Trained one or two of them myself. I believe I told you once before when I ran the Portland Police, we had one of the highest solve rates in the nation."

"There's been nothing found in the investigation."

"Is that what Hendrick's been telling you? Or what he told you to say? You forget, I spent years on the force, I still plenty of influence with my fellow man in blue, so think carefully about what you want to say next." Sean stares him down, daring him to keep denying his claim. Whistler's right: he has no evidence that Whistler had anything to do with his attempt on his life, other than his gut which keeps saying the lack of evidence points to Whistler, and Hendrick, but he still has a use for him at the station right now, and Hendrick's too dumb to be much of a threat to Sean.

The fingers around the glass Whistler's holding are almost white, and Sean smiles victoriously.

"Really, if doesn't matter if you confess or not," he tells Whistler. "I just wanted you to be here so you can see how to properly arrange someone's death, and follow through to make sure it's done right."

A flicker of indecision, fear, flashes across Whistler's face.

"What are you talking about?" he says.

"Give it a moment," Sean advises, "I'm sure you'll take my meaning in a few seconds. Maybe a minute or two."

Whistler glances around the office, looking for reasons why Sean would be so smug. There's no assassin lurking in a dark corner, ready to leap out at him. He shoots out of his chair, when the realization hits that he's facing the window behind Sean.

"Honestly, you think I would be so crass as to have someone shoot you through my window?" Sean asks him. "Of course, I'm sure everyone would believe it," he remarks, considering. "You laid the ground work, after all, with that first attempt. Another sniper shot wouldn't likely be unthinkable. Really, though, not my style."

"You're just playing with me," Whistler says.

"Are you sure?" Sean asks him. It's taking a bit, but Sean can finally see that it's working. Whistler finally notices the direction of Sean gaze and looks down at the hand clutching the glass. He drops it immediately and it falls to the rug, spilling liquor everywhere, but not breaking.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Sean remarks casually. They both stare, Whistler in increasing alarm, as his arm turns white, and then his fingers turn black with inky tendrils that creep up his arm.

"What have you done?" Whistler demands, looking at the liquor.

"It was on the glass," Sean tells him, answering his question. "Took a while, but it looks like it will deliver."

"What have you done?" Whistler repeats, more loudly as the inky tendrils reach his shoulder.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now," Sean tells him and Whistler's head snaps up. "The poison from a _Stachelig Qualle_ is really quite amazing. And almost completely undetectable in autopsy, did you know that?"

Whistler starts trembling, shudders racking his body.

"Of course, it's an extraordinarily painful way to die. Usually much more drawn out, but the apothecary who created this mixture assured me this would be quick. Quicker, anyway," he amends as Whistler starts spasming, and drops to the floor. He lands with a loud thud and Sean stands up and moves around the desk.

Whistler seizes, wide eyes staring up at Sean incredulously.

"Doesn't look like it's any less painful, though, does it?" Sean says, as Whistler gasps uncontrollably, trying to suck in some air. He curls in on himself and blood leaks out of an ear.

"Probably should call and get you some help," Sean tells him, and sets his glass on the desk after a final swallow.

"Sarah! Sarah!" he shouts, watching Whistler continue to seize. "Anyone? Anyone! Help!" Whistler rolls uncontrollably onto his back, blood seeping out of his nose. "Oh, that's right, I told them to go home. Well, I'm sure security will be by shortly. Meanwhile, I guess it's time for the 911 call, isn't it?" He picks up his phone and dials.

"This is the mayor, one of my staff is having a medical emergency. Looks like a seizure," he obediently relays all the relevant information with a hurried tone and then hangs up a moment later, claiming to need to go to Whistler's assistance.

He can see the black tendrils on Whistler's neck, and under the collar. A particularly vicious seizure racks his body and he hears a bone break. Whistler gasps again, a wheezing, keening noise, before his eyes shut and he loses consciousness. The seizure keeps up, though, lasting well over two minutes, before his body finally falls slack.

"Impressive," Sean murmurs to the room. He bends down and looks the fallen glass over carefully, but other than the faint smudges of Whistler's fingerprints, where they, with the combination of body heat, completely absorbed the poison on the glass. Of course, if they test the liquid, they'll find that it's nothing more harmful than a typical port, and conclude Whistler died of unfortunate natural causes. That's if they suspect that Whistler's death is anything but accidental, but in case Hendrick, or Hank or Wu or anyone else that gets any ideas, they won't be able to pin anything on Sean.

And the Wesen that still oppose him, are working to conspire against him, will have an important message in Whistler's death to consider.

%%%%%


	19. Part Four - Chapter Four

AN: Thank you all who are still reading and sticking with this story. Still about another 20 chapters to go (give or take 5).

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!"

"Bud! Duck."

Bud ducks and Trubel slices her machete neatly through the Blutbads neck, severing it. Bud shrieks like a terrified teenager when it rolls in front of his feet. He kicks at it, trying to move it away when he looks up and shrieks again.

"Trubel!" he yelps, pointing. Trubel whips around, a neatly executed spinning kick and catches another Wesen in the chest as he rushes her. The woman who charges to his defense she slings her machete (Nick's machete) through the chest, before retracting it quickly and lopping off her head, too. She does the same to the man as he struggles to his feet, and both heads roll over the floor, surrounding Bud, who wrinkles his nose in disgust and carefully straightens from the half crouch he assumed as Trubel took care of the gooks.

Trubel breathes in deep and looks around at the bodies at her feet.

"You okay?" she asks Eve, who appears to be struggling to catch her breath, and Eve nods jerkily. She and Rosalee have been hush-hush on a project, but Trubel can guess what they're after. It's becoming more and more apparent that the Hexenbiest that had taken over Juliette is dying, or weakening, or whatever it does when something like Nick's stick affects it, and so far their efforts to shore it up, so to speak, haven't yielded much in the way of long-term results, but for a few short bursts of energy. It seems to Trubel though, that each time they try to increase or preserve the Hexenbiest, it's actually draining it faster, and she figures by the time Nick's been gone a year, Juliette will be back full-time.

Which is bad news for Eve, because the Juliette that is emerging is clearly clinging to that tough-as-nails persona, and Trubel knows she finds it easier to live as Eve than she does as Juliette.

Still, given everything that's going on in Portland she can't spare Eve or Juliette much consideration as she tries to keep a lid on everything that's going on, and it's an exercise in futility, mostly.

"Bud?" Trubel asks, wiping down the blade of the machete on the body next to her.

Bud looks around nervously, clutching an empty gas can he was wielding for defense and nods.

"I—I—I—I'm okay. I mean, I'm not okay. I'm mean, I'm probably not going to sleep for a week, but uh-uh-I've still got my head," he says with a weak chuckle.

"They just came out of nowhere!" his Eisbiber friend Wendell exclaims anxiously. He's appears to be a few years younger than Bud, lanky and tall where Bud is short and round. His weapon of choice is a wrench, and he drops it on the floor with a loud clang and steps away from the body near him. He looks incredulously around him at the carnage, wild eyes staring at Bud for reassurance, before they flick to Trubel and Eve when he doesn't find it.

"Did we get everyone?" Trubel asks Eve and Eve shakes her head.

"I think two escaped out the back while you and I were taking care of this mess," Eve informs her, indicating the bodies around them. It's another indication that there's something wrong with Eve and her powers, Trubel thinks. If she was the Eve of old, those Wesen never would have gotten ten feet away before Eve telekinetically snatched them back. There's four more bodies near Eve, and another that either Bud or Wendell, or maybe both of them, got lucky and got a jump on.

"More resistance fighters, you think?"

Eve nods hesitantly, frowning.

"That or Wesen who are tired of the new regime Renard has brought with him."

Trubel shakes her head.

"I don't think they're loyal to him."

She studies the bodies around her, mulling over the possibilities.

"This is crazy!" Wendell continues from somewhere behind her, still fretting. Trubel finally devotes some attention to him. They're fighting off the Wesen opposition with failing government-engineered Hexenbiests, and Eisbibers, and out of respect for Bud she manages not to snort aloud. They need all the help they can get, and Monroe and Rosalee haven't volunteered much, understandably. That leaves Trubel, Eve, and those Wesen in Portland who were loyal to Nick, and are willing to risk their necks, which isn't many. Plus, Hank and Wu. That's it.

While Bud (or Wendell) isn't much in the way of physical defense, he's intensely loyal to them, and many Wesen look up to him for his relationship with Nick. Thus, many Wesen are willing to support Bud and more importantly, Trubel and Hank and Wu and Monroe, and they need all the support, and opposition to Renard, that they can muster. The time will come when they'll make their move to unseat the mayor from his position, and they'll need allies to help make it happen.

She hopes, anyway, because it's been the better part of a year and Renard seems as slimy and slippery as he's ever been. She had hoped that someone inside his own circle would do him in, but it sounds like Renard's wise to that himself, since she heard one of his supposedly trusted staff died under mysterious circumstances and that it had been strongly suspected that person had something to do with the attempt on Renard's life shortly after he took office.

Hank and Wu spent a long time trying to determine if there was any evidence that might finally be used against Renard, but, as usual, he's been exceptional at covering his tracks.

"What if someone finds out what happened here?" Wendell continues in a panic and Trubel frowns and turns back to the bodies. "I've got two kids! And two more on the way. I can't go to jail!"

"It's fine," Bud tries to soothe him and Wendell gapes at him incredulously. "I mean, it's not fine. Obviously. I mean, we're talking a lot of bodies," he adds to himself, looking around.

There's a lot to dispose of, and cleaning up the crime scene…well, it's best to just leave everything as is, and make sure they don't leave any evidence linking them to the bodies.

It's not that Renard probably isn't looking for reasons to nail them all and throw them in jail himself, but there's been a curious backing off, of late, that has Trubel wondering what he's on about. She knows he's desperate to find his daughter, and thus Nick. She has no doubt he's still got eyes on them, but his spies have been less invasive and disruptive than they've been and right now she suspects what she and Eve are doing is making life easier for Renard, anyway, so it's doubly unlikely that he will intervene at this point.

That's not to say the mayor's replacement at the precinct won't, though.

Hendrick seems to have it in for Hank and Wu, and maybe more so now that Renard's man Whistler was found dead in the mayor's mansion.

She's not sure what that means for them, other than a major inconvenience.

They have plenty of that right now.

"My god, I'm going to have nightmares!" Wendell continues. "I killed someone!" he exclaims. His horrified face smooths out. "I killed someone," Wendell repeats, sounding surprised.

Bud's brow wrinkles in confusion at the sudden change.

"Me. That's right, I killed a—a—a—oh, my god, was that an _hundjager_?" he shouts.

Bud makes another face as he peers at the body Wendell's pointing at.

"Yes?" Bud replies uncertainly. "Kind of looked like one. Except the face was wrong. And the teeth, you know? But I mean, but you didn't kill him, I don't think. Trubel cut off its head," Bud points out, and Wendell brightens hopefully.

"Yeah, but don't cheapen it for him Bud. Your friend here gave him the fatal blow. He bashed the back of his head in with that wrench. Good job," she says, smacking his shoulder with a smile. Wendell looks down at the wrench he dropped. The end of it is covered in blood.

"Hungh!" he exhales, eyes wide as saucers. "I'm going to go to jail!" he wails after a moment. "I can't go to jail! I'm claustrophobic!"

"Nobody's going to jail," Bud soothes nervously.

"Unless they link the murder weapon to the blood on your shirt," Trubel says, and feels Eve's annoyed eyes on her a moment later.

Wendell looks where she's indicating and lets out a high-pitched screech.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!" he chants. "I'm going to die in a rat-infested jail! You know how terrified I am of rats!"

Eve and Trubel glance at each other at this non-sequitur. Wendell ignores them.

"Wouldn't that mean you had musophobia?" Trubel offers, and Eve glances at her again in surprise. Trubel shrugs self-consciously. "What? I read." Eve raises her eyesbrows but says nothing.

Wendell points at Bud and gasps, and Bud looks down at his shirt.

"EEeeek!" Bud yelps, noticing a few droplets staining his shirt front.

"Oops, sorry Bud," Trubel apologizes sincerely. "Must have got some on you."

"Uh-uh—uh, it's okay. It's okay. Just a little blood. And some—some—some—other stuff," he adds in strangled voice.

"It'll wash out," Trubel offers. "Hopefully. Maybe."

"It would be better if they burned them," Eve cuts in. "And if you would stop egging them on," she adds under her breath. Trubel shrugs unapologetically.

"How am I going to explain this to my wife?" Wendell asks them.

"Why does she have to know?" Eve returns. This time Trubel raises an eyebrow.

"She's going to wonder why I'm not wearing my clothes. Oh my god! She'll think I'm having an affair!"

Everyone stares at Wendell with the same confused expression on their face. Well, everyone except Eve, who manages to hide most of hers, Trubel amends.

"Why would she think that?" Bud asks.

"Because…that one time, I came home with different clothes…" he hedges, looking at Bud pointedly. Bud's eyebrows sink low into the corners as he clearly has no idea what Wendell is talking about. Trubel turns back to the corpses around her, losing interest. She doesn't know Wendell, and she doesn't care about his personal life and motivations, and she doesn't want to hear about some Eisbiber's sordid love affair.

"Well, I, I, kissed Amber Schaefer. Totally by accident!" He hastens to add, and Eve and Trubel turn back to him in disbelief.

"When?" Bud asks, still clearly confused.

"How did you kiss someone by accident?" Trubel asks. "Were you blindfolded?"

"Sort of," he says lamely. Eve snorts.

"How did that involved a change of clothes?" Trubel makes the mistake of asking. "Never mind. I don't want to know."

"It wasn't like that," he insists, and Trubel gives him a look. "It wasn't like that," he says again, turning to Bud for support.

"Wasn't Amber that girl who moved here from Ontario in seventh grade?" Bud asks, eyes squinting as though searching his memory.

"Yes!" Wendell practically sobs.

"Didn't she move away sophomore year?" Bud continues in the same muddled tone.

"Yes! And I never looked at another woman ever again. I swear!"

"Wendell and his wife have been together since grade school," Bud says at Eve's glance.

"Except for that winter!" Wendell cuts in mournfully, as though Trubel cares. Despite her irritation with this conversation, she finds her curiosity piqued, which only adds to her annoyance. They have bigger problems than Wendell's love life.

"I still don't see how whatever happened twenty years ago results in the assumption that you're having an affair if you change your clothes," Eve says to Wendell.

"Really," Trubel replies. "I mean, tell your wife you spilled something on it and you had to change your shirt."

"She'll want to see the shirt!"

"Why?"

"So she can clean it!"

"She really does a great job on tough stains," Bud confirms and Trubel gives him a look before sliding her eyes back to Wendell.

"Tell her you threw it out. It was toxic."

"I can't—hmm," Wendell retorts thoughtfully. He cocks his head to the side. "I guess I could do that."

"Good. Now, can we focus on getting out of here before someone discovers us."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's a good idea," Bud says, looking for confirmation from Wendell. Wendell nods jerkily.

"Great," Trubel breathes. "Pick up the murder weapon and let's go."

"Murder weapon? Oh, god!" Wendell moans and Eve rolls her head to Trubel in annoyance.

%%%%%

"Wow, that was almost like that time with the Wesenrein," Bud remarks in the silence in the car. Trubel's in Nick's aunt's Wagoneer, resurrected by Josh, who has taken to tinkering around with Bud in his spare time. She suspects the miraculous fix was due more to Bud's efforts than Josh's, but she's grateful she hasn't lost an important piece of Nick's history, particularly when she can recall so little about her own

The truth is when she thought the old Wagoneer was kaput she had cried. Something that Josh unfortunately witnessed, and something that made them both uncomfortable. She wasn't used to people seeing her vulnerable, and Josh clearly was unsettled by it, too.

It meant more than either of them were comfortable acknowledging that he managed to fix it, and Trubel filed those complicated feelings under Things To Deal With Later.

Nick had given her this, one of the few things he possessed from his beloved aunt. It had meant a lot, more than Trubel could ever articulate, but Nick understood that. He always did, and it had the benefit of not being something complicated to sort out.

Eve's sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat beside her; though, that's her usual demeanor after she's taken one of her and Rosalee's hexenbiest boosters. For a while, she's very much like the Eve of old—detached, robotic, unemotional—but it doesn't last long, and it seems like it's less and less effective, though it does give her strength an incredible boost, which she needs fighting off Wesen.

Still, she never seems very comfortable if they take Trubel's ride, and she wonders if it's because she knows the car was Nick's aunt's. As far as she knows, Juliette never did anything evil or untoward to Nick's Aunt Marie; that was Adalind, and Marie died years before Juliette the Hexenbiest came on to the scene, so she's not sure why Eve or Juliette would be so unnerved with the reminder.

"You've done this before?" Wendell asks him incredulously.

Bud shrugs, nonchalantly.

"I wasn't there; I wouldn't know," Trubel says to his original comment.

"It was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Or want to ever again. But Nick was incredible!" Bud gushes. "I've never seen him so angry. He was fierce, and fearsome—just like all those stories you hear, about the Grimms! He showed no mercy! There must have been dozens of them! When he heard where Monroe and I were, and what had happened to us—there wasn't a Wesen in the Wesenrein left standing."

"I thought you said he was a nice Grimm," Wendell accuses suspiciously.

"He was. He is," he corrects quickly. "Until you really upset him. Whew, then, watch out! And those Wesenrein-" Bud shakes his head. "They weren't nice."

"How do you know which one you're going to get? Grimms are unpredictable," Wendell says, and belatedly ducks his head when he realizes Trubel's sitting in front of him.

"Not generally. I've found most Grimms to be extremely predictable, particularly when you understand the moral parameters in which they operate," Eve says and everyone turns their head and looks at her. Trubel shakes hers slightly and turns back to driving.

"Nick's more level-headed than most, though." Bud says.

"You only upset him like that if you go after someone he cares about," Trubel defends. Adalind and Kelly are excellent examples. Hank, and Wu, Monroe and Rosalee. Bud. Trubel. Juliette, too.

"He's a fair Grimm," Bud argues. "And he'll do anything to help his friends."

"And you're friends with him?"

"Yup," Bud says proudly. "I'm friends with Trubel, too." Trubel catches Wendell's wary eye in the review mirror. She notices with surprise she's got a cut on her eyebrow and wonders who and where she got it from in the fight.

"Nick taught her everything she knows," Bud continues. "Like how all Wesen aren't bad."

Trubel swallows a sudden lump in her throat. She can still remember Nick trying to convince her he was a Grimm—trying to tell her she was one, too, what that meant. That she wasn't crazy, for one. That he saw the same things she did. That they had a job to do with that ability, and it was important to do it right. How he took her in to his home, despite Juliette's obvious reluctance with living with someone she had no idea about. How he insisted she stay with them so he could help her assimilate to her truth. Introducing her to Rosalee and Monroe, and Bud.

He always treated her like she was a long-lost part of his family. She sees now, ever more clearly, how Nick was eager to find someone like him. How lonely he must have been, bearing the load of fighting and hunting Wesen, with no one who really understood the expectations he was under, despite the support of Hank, and later Wu, Monroe and Rosalee and Juliette. She understands how the gift (or curse) of being a Grimm isolates you. He had been just as glad to make her acquaintance and find someone who knew exactly what he went through, what he dealt with on a daily basis, as she had been to find out what she was seeing wasn't the visions of someone who had lost their mind.

They were so much alike, just as they were so different.

She's pulled from her musings, registering that Bud is still talking about Nick, when she hears her phone ring. She takes one hand off the steering wheel and fishes it out of her coat pocket.

"It's Wu," she announces as Eve's inquisitive look, glancing at the screen.

"Hey Wu," she says when she picks up.

"Trubel? Where are you?"

"Oh, making sure you and Hank stay gainfully employed. Why?"

"We need to set up a meet."

"Okay," Trubel says, something in Wu's tone setting her stomach turning. Probably also the fact that he ignored the prime opportunity to make a sarcastic quip back at her statement.

"Is Eve with you?"

"Yeah," Trubel says, glancing at her, and Eve turns her head more fully towards Trubel.

"Good. 7:30," Wu says.

"Usual spot?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, see you then," Trubel says and disconnects. Eve's still giving Trubel her full attention, a glimmer of worry in her eyes. The potion is already wearing off, and Juliette is starting to shine through again.

"Wu wants to meet," she says quietly. Bud's still talking to Wendell in the backseat about Nick.

"When?"

"Tonight. We'll drop them off at Bud's place and then head back and clean up."

"Okay," Eve says, turning back to the highway in front of them after a moment of staring, as though she can divine the answers she seeks if she just burns a hole in the side of Trubel's head.

Trubel feels anything but okay, but what else is there to say. The churning in stomach deepens and she takes a slow, measured breath in and lets it out.

 _It's not about Nick,_ she tells herself. _They haven't found his body. He's not dead._

Still, she can't imagine anything else but Nick being the reason for Wu's cryptic call.

 _That's not true,_ she reminds herself. There's plenty of reasons for it, not the least of which is their belief that Renard is somehow monitoring their calls.

Still, Wu's tone….

"Did he sound upset?" Eve breaks in, and Trubel glances at her friend trying to will the water in her eyes away without drawing attention to it by brushing it away. Eve's pensive face is trying to nonchalantly observe the scenery as it goes by.

"He sounded…abrupt," Trubel settles on.

"Hendrick's still got eyes on them," Eve offers.

"Yeah. And Renard." She's not sure if Hendrick and Renard are working together anymore.

"Something wrong?" Bud pipes up from the back.

"Uh, no, Bud. We'll drop you off at your place, and then we've got to check something out."

"Oh, okay. Uh, why don't you drop me off at my shop. I-uh-I think that would be better," he says, glancing at Wendell for confirmation.

"Okay," Trubel agrees. "Thanks. For your help earlier."

"Yeah, no-no problem. It was our pleasure. I mean, not our pleasure, obviously. I mean, not that we didn't enjoy your company. It was…You were…lovely as always…Eve…" Bud says, scrunching his face slightly. Eve looks back at him blankly, but Trubel thinks she's trying to bite down a smile.

"And any time you need help. You just say the word. Wendell and I, we'll be right there."

"Thanks Bud. It means a lot."

"What are you? Crazy?" Wendell retorts. "I can't be part of this!"

%%%%%

"What do you think Wu wants to tell us?" Trubel asks Eve. She's walking ahead of Trubel, eyes darting back and forth, making sure they're alone. Trubel's doing the same, making sure no one's following. They're in the industrial yard, taking the outlet to the tunnel that runs under Nick's old loft.

"You think it's something about Nick?" Trubel prompts when Eve doesn't answer. "Do you think they found him?" It's understood that she means his body. If Wu had found Nick alive he would have said, Renard, Hendrick and anyone else listening be damned, she thinks.

"Maybe," Eve finally answers. "Maybe they found something. Or maybe this isn't about Nick, or Diana, and Adalind at all. Maybe we're all just getting our hopes up for nothing."

"You're hoping we find his body? Or Adalind's?"

"I'm hoping we'll finally have answers," Eve retorts. "Maybe some closure, and we can all move on."

Nick never had closure with her, Trubel wants to say. No one ever had closure with her. One moment she was Juliette they had all known and loved, and the next she was someone else, as far as Juliette as anyone could have imagined. It's on the tip of Trubel's tongue to point this out and she spends a second or two debating, wondering if she wants to go there now.

"We're all still looking for answers with you," she says, and Eve slows, then stops. She keeps her back to Trubel and Trubel knows she hit a nerve.

"You got any?" Trubel asks. It's not the time to be getting into it with Eve, she reminds herself. She's on edge, wondering if this meet is going to be the one where she finally learns that Nick is dead after months and months of denying it to herself. She's just looking for a target and she's found it in Eve. "Like, what are we supposed to call you? Are you Juliette? Are you still Eve? I mean, if that's the case, something's different. You're not the Eve I knew. I know something happened when Nick used that stick, and I know you've been trying to figure it out, but I don't think you've been able to stop it, whatever's happening."

Eve nods slowly.

"No," she confirms quietly.

"Do you know what's happening?"

"No."

"I figured. Sometimes when I see you, I see my friend. My old friend, Juliette," Trubel says, voice trembling. "I see her struggling, and I remember how when I struggled she helped me, but I'm not sure what I should do. If you even want the help. If you deserve the help, after everything you did to Nick, and Monroe and Rosalee and everyone."

"I don't," Eve says softly.

"No, probably not," Trubel agrees. "But then I think Juliette would still do it, so I should, too. She and Nick were the only true friends to me that never expected anything in return. I still owe that person. She helped save my life."

"Nick saved your life," Eve intones. "And I told you before. If you hadn't done what you did, Juliette would have killed you, too. You don't owe her or me anything."

"I disagree. Nick always had my back, but you did, too. Whatever name you want to associate with it."

"You can't help," Eve says, and Trubel frowns.

"Maybe not, but then again, maybe I can," she counters. "Try me. We always made a pretty good team at HW."

She waits, listening carefully to the sounds around her, making sure she and Eve are still alone. She sees Eve's shoulder's rise and fall with a measured inhalation of breath and then Eve speaks.

"I'm losing myself. Again. I'd accepted Eve, I had accepted what I was, who I was, and now that's slipping away, too."

"What do you mean?" Eve does an about face and looks at her.

"I mean, there's something wrong with the hexenbiest inside me. I think it's dying. I can't summon my powers the way I used to. It's harder and harder to woge. Without the booster potions it's like I'm—I'm—normal, except I'm not. This is twice where I've had something…fundamental…taken away from me. First it was my normalcy—being Juliette, being Kehrseite—and now, when I've accepted what I am—that I'm Wesen—I'm losing my identity. I'm losing the Hexenbiest."

"But you never wanted to be the hexenbiest," Trubel points out.

"I never wanted to do what I did as Juliette. I never wanted to be useless, either. As Eve, I found a way to live with myself. I can't live with my old self and what I've done."

"Try."

Eve stares at Trubel.

"That's easy for you to say," she says.

"Is it? We've all done shit we regret doing. Nothing's going to change that. Me. Rosalee. Monroe and Adalind. We've all had to accept it and move past it. Your problem is you can't accept what you've done."

"I know."

"You might try apologizing for some of it."

"You think an _I'm sorry_ is going to make up for almost killing Monroe? Being the reason Nick's mother is dead?" Anger is creeping into Eve's tone.

"No, probably not. But it's a start, and right now you're stuck. You need to move forward. Juliette. Eve. Some combination of the two. You're stuck in the past. We're all stuck in the past, and we're never going to figure out anything if we keep focusing on it and not the here and now. We've got plenty of shit to deal with here in Portland."

"I don't know if I belong in Portland anymore."

Trubel pauses. Eve bites her lip. She looks plainly at Trubel.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I'll help you for as long as I can, but I don't know what remains here for me. Nick's gone," Juliette says emotionally. "Even if he was here or alive, what we had is gone. He's with Adalind now, if he's anywhere. My whole life is gone. My practice is gone. I gave up a good career here as a vet. My home. My friends—my old friends, from before—they probably think I'm dead. It's been over a year now, some longer, since I've been in contact with them. There's a lot of things I laid waste, too, I know that, and I have to live with it, but it might be easier, If I'm to become Juliette again, to start fresh somewhere else. Without all the baggage."

Truble nods slowly.

Yes, she supposes it would be, but she's struck with the fear that Nick's gone, and now Juliette might one day be, too. Monroe and Rosalee are pulling away, trying to keep their unborn baby and their own future safe. Meisner's gone. Juliette's not the only one dealing with feelings of loss.

Eve nods once and turns around again, waiting before she starts walking for Trubel to almost catch up to her. They walk without saying anything, the sound of gravel crunching beneath their feet.

"I did apologize," Eve says, and Trubel glances at her out the side of her eye. "Not just to you, but to Rosalee. I tried to say I'm sorry, but she didn't want to hear it."

"She must have heard some of it, because she's been helping you," Trubel points out. "It's must have made a little difference."

"Maybe," Eve concedes after a long moment.

"I'm not saying that everything will be hunky-dory again once you do, but you've got to give people—and yourself—a place to start. None of know what to expect of you, or even what to call you, or even what feelings the apology will stir up. Maybe it's anger, maybe it's regret. Probably both," she says at Eve's look.

"For you?"

Trubel's silent, considering.

"I was angry, yeah, for what happened to Nick, especially at first. But now, mostly, what I feel is regret."

"For killing me?"

"For it having to come to that after everything."

"I didn't give you any choice."

"No, you didn't. But that doesn't mean I don't regret my part in what happened. It doesn't mean I don't regret the loss of a friend. It doesn't mean that we can't find a middle ground somewhere between all that and maybe be friends like we were again."

Eve glances at her, mouth pressing together, and Trubel gets the impression that there's a large part of Juliette that just wants to cut all ties with her past and the people she knew in Portland.

"If you even want to be again," Trubel offers. Eve nods in acknowledgement, but it's not an answer to Trubel's question. She can see how the idea of moving to another city and having a clean start would be appealing, but she doesn't think it's realistic.

The past always has a way of catching up to you. You can never outrun who you are.

%%%%%

"Anybody follow you?" Are the first words out of Wu's mouth when he spots Trubel and Eve come around the corner of the tunnel.

"No," Trubel replies.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Eve says. "What's going on?"

Monroe and Rosalee are there, too. Trubel doesn't know how she managed to get down the ladder with her huge belly, but clearly whatever Wu had to tell them unnerved her enough to make the attempt. She has no idea how Rosalee plans to get back up it, and she hopes whatever it is that Wu has to tell them doesn't put her into labor because that would be all kinds of suck.

Monroe's hovering nervously beside his wife, arms crossed over his chest, and he's glancing around at everyone impatiently. Hank's there, too, one hip resting against a disjointed block in the wall, and he has a grim set to his mouth and it seeing it puts Trubel on edge as well.

"It's Nick," she says, hollowly, before Wu can open his mouth. She's known this day would come ever since they'd lost any sign of life from him. She tells herself that Eve's right. It's better to finally have answers than to have to spend years wondering, and that being the one to say it, shows she can handle the loss.

Except she can't, she can feel a part of her dying right at that moment, and she has to fight the overwhelming urge to storm the Mayor's Mansion and kill Renard and as many resistance supporting Wesen she comes across.

"Yeah," Hank confirms softly, and everyone sucks in a breath waiting. Waiting for the confirmation.

"He's dead?" Trubel asks, because she was never good at waiting.

"I don't know," Hank says, and Trubel raises her eyes from to the floor to Hank.

"You found him?" Monroe barks.

"Sort of," Wu says with a slight nod.

"Sort of?" Monroe echoes, and Trubel's heart inexplicably buoys. Sort of isn't the same as yes. Sort of doesn't mean he's alive, but the ambiguous answer gives her hope. _He might still be alive._

"What does sort of, mean?" Rosalee asks.

"We found his vehicle in a remote area of Washington," Wu says.

"What?" Trubel whispers.

"Washington state?" Rosalee blurts out inanely. Hank's eyes dart to hers.

"Yeah."

"Where at?" Monroe asks, trying to remain calm, but he's fidgety and this news is clearly having an effect on him as well. How could it not? She reasons. It's Nick.

"Just outside of Seattle, northeast, about thirty miles from the Canadian border."

"You think they crossed over into Canada?" Monroe asks, and there's a lilt in his voice that radiates carefully suppressed excitement.

 _He's alive!_

"I don't know," Hank says. "It's possible."

"Well then that means he's still, alive, right?" Monroe says, looking at the group.

"I don't know."

"Any signs of a struggle or anything?" Trubel asks, and then suddenly everyone's talking at once.

"What about Adalind and Kelly and Diana? Anyone see them? Is there any sign of them?" Rosalee demands.

"Does Renard know?"

"Hang on, everyone! One at a time," Hank instructs, holding her hands out and everyone falls silent. Rosalee meets her eye and smiles grimly. She looks at Wu and Hank.

'I think it would be best if you tell us exactly what you found," Rosalee says, eyes burning.


	20. Part Four - Chapter Five

AN: Last one with the scoobies for a while.

%%%%

What do you think?"

"About this? I think it's a mess," Wu replies, indicating their latest crime scene. A family of five, consisting of an elderly woman and her two sons and one of their two children. All adults, and Wu's thankful for that.

Hank twists his mouth at Wu's assessment and turns back to the bodies. "CSU almost done?"

"Riker estimates another hour. Techs are just finishing up with the bodies. Still a little bit yet with the house. Bledsoe and Orwin are finishing up with the witness statements. Think we may have something with the neighbor."

"Okay, let's bring him in and we'll start going through it," Hank says and Wu nods when his phone rings. He checks it, frowning as he places the area code from Washington.

"Wu," he says into the phone, holding up a finger for Hank to hang on a sec.

"Hey Drew, this is Al."

"Hey Al," Wu says, suddenly placing the unfamiliar number. "You got a case you need some help with?"

"From you?" Al snorts good naturedly. Wu smiles wryly. "Well, maybe. Remember that BOLO on the vehicle you sent me?"

Wu feels his heart speed up. He glances up at Hank, who's exhibiting his impatience with the delay in processing the scene with a frown and a slightly bored look.

"Yeah, the Toyota Land Cruiser," Wu says aloud, glancing around him to make sure no one else is within earshot. Hank's eyes snap back to Wu as he straightens to attention.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"You find something?"

"Maybe," Al says, and Wu frowns. Hank's listening intently now, crowding into Wu's personal space. Wu would put him on speaker, but he doesn't want to risk anyone else hearing.

"What do you mean?"

"Found a silver Land Cruiser, no plates, appears to be abandoned, deep in the woods north of here, outside of Burlington."

"Land Cruiser, no plates, abandoned in woods," Wu relays in a whisper.

"Where at?" Hank asks.

"Burlington, north of Seattle," Wu replies and Hank noticeably brightens with interest.

"Any signs of a struggle?" Hank asks him.

"Any signs of a struggle," Wu asks Al.

"No, vehicle's clean," Al says.

"Vehicle's clean," Wu relays and Hank shakes his head.

"Got to be Nick's," he says, and the weariness and disenchantment that has been clinging to Hank for the last several months is gone. Wu nods. It's possible it's not, but this is the first real clue they've had since they discovered Nick gone, with even the remotest connection to Nick, and a silver Toyota Land Cruiser abandoned in Seattle isn't that remote.

"We can match the VIN number with the information on file."

"VIN numbers gone," Al replies, obviously overhearing him, and Wu repeats this for Hank, who's practically thrumming with excitement.

"Got to be Nick," Hank says again quietly and Wu nods in agreement.

"You want me to pull it to the yard?" Al asks Wu, bringing Wu back to conversation on the other side of the phone.

"No, can you leave it where it's at for a bit. I want to take a good look at the scene."

"Okay," Al says, sounding slightly miffed. "I kind of scouted around the area; I didn't find any signs of foul play."

"I know, I appreciate you looking Al, and I believe you," Wu says. "But I just need to check it out with my own eyes. No disrespect," he assures. "You know how it is," he adds.

"Yeah, understood," Al agrees gruffly. "I remembered you asking me to keep an eye out for it. I take it you want me to wait before I post it," he adds.

"Al, if you would, I would owe you big time."

"You already do, remember?" Al replies jovially. "One day I'm gonna collect."

"Just name it," Wu assures him and they say their goodbyes and Wu disconnects. He looks up at Hank, his expression likely mirroring his own.

Hope. For the first time in a long time.

"This is…"

"This is big," Wu says.

"Let's not get a head of ourselves. We don't know for sure that it's Nick's—"

"But it probably is," Wu interjects.

"Or that he and Adalind and the kids are okay—"

"No signs of foul play; it's possible they are," Wu cuts in.

"Or even why his vehicle would be found abandoned there."

"You think they went to Canada? Or Seattle? Does Nick know anybody in Seattle?"

"Does he know anybody in Canada?" Hank counters.

"Maybe Adalind does?"

"Maybe Black Claw is a little more active in the Seattle chapter," Hank points out.

"What about the Royals? Are any of them in Seattle? Or maybe Vancouver? It's not that far."

Hank shakes his head slowly.

"I don't know, but we need to get to that vehicle ASAP before anyone else discovers it. You trust this Al?" he asks Wu and Wu nods.

"Yeah, I set him up with my cousin. He's been married to her for fifteen years. He's a good guy. He'll sit on it for as long as he can."

"Anyone else know about it?"

"Just Al, I think."

"Good. We need to haul ass to Seattle."

"What about this?"

Hank glances behind him, at the job they're working.

"Right now, we have to pretend it's business as usual. We drop everything and book a flight to Seattle and Hendrick and Renard will know something's up."

"You think they're not going to when you and I both ask for the day off?"

"We're not going to ask for the day off. We're going to tell them that our case appears to be linked to one in Washington and we need to meet with the Detective—" Hank breaks off, raising his eyebrows for Wu to supply Al's name.

"Seung," Wu supplies. "Lieutenant Seung," he adds.

"Sergeant Seung to look over some case details. Al's going to have to back us up."

"He will," Wu says confidently.

"First, we need to tell the others."

"Are you sure? Maybe we should research it a little before we get everyone's hopes up," Wu points out. "We don't know what we're going to find, or if we're going to find a big fat lot of nothing."

"Yeah, you may be right, but I think we may need some help on this."

"Maybe Monroe can track his scent, or something," Wu adds, and Hank shrugs.

"If Nick's still in the area, but I don't think he is. Still, this is more to go on than anything else. Call the others and let's set up a meet."

%%%%%

"I'm going with you," Trubel says before Wu even finishes talking.

"Me, too," Monroe adds.

"What about Rosalee?" Wu prompts, looking at the very expectant Fuchsbau. She's due in a matter of weeks, and frankly if the descent down the ladder didn't induce labor, likely the ascent will.

"Honey," Monroe starts, looking torn.

"Go," Rosalee says, cutting him off.

"Are you sure?"

She nods. "If it's Nick, they'll need you."

"You need me, too," Monroe points out.

"I do, but it's only for a couple of days. I'm not due for another three weeks."

"I'm not sure what I can smell. If it's been there a long time, there's not likely anything left to go on."

"We'll take whatever we can get," Hank says.

"I—I can keep an eye on Rosalee," Eve offers. "If Rosalee doesn't mind," she adds, looking hesitantly at her, and Rosalee nods.

"That's fine," she agrees briskly.

"You're sure?" Monroe says.

"Monroe, go. Eve and I will be fine. The baby will be fine. Just…hurry back as soon as you can."

"I'll have my phone on me, and if anything happens…"

"I'll call you."

"She'll be fine," Eve assures them. "Delivering a baby isn't much different than what I had to do sometimes as a vet." Wu's eyes flick towards Eve in surprise before he quickly averts them away. He's not sure if she realizes the slip. Ever since Eve's arrived on the scene, she's been adamant that though they may inhabit the same body, Juliette is dead and gone. She rarely ever refers to her past as Juliette, and usually when she does, it was because someone else brought it up and she always refers to it in the third person, as though Juliette was a separate entity. He wonders if Eve is starting to accept that Juliette is back. He knows something's been different ever since Nick used the stick on her.

"When do we leave?" Trubel prompts.

"Wu and I are heading up tomorrow morning," Hank says.

"Monroe and I will head up tonight and do some pre-scouting around," Trubel says, glancing at Monroe who shrugs in agreement. "We'll meet you sometime tomorrow?"

"Let's get to the scene while it's still light out," Hank says. "We need to comb as much of the area as we can before anyone else disturbs it."

"Agreed," Rosalee says. "Eve and I can work the phones and go through some people I know in Seattle. See if anyone's heard anything. I know you didn't find anything before when you went," she says to Trubel, "but it's been several months. Maybe something's changed."

"Maybe someone's ready to speak up," Trubel points out and Rosalee nods.

"Maybe."

Everyone looks at each other.

"This could be it," Eve says after a long moment where no one says anything. "We could finally have some answers, or some clues."

"Or more questions," Wu points out. He doesn't think they'll find much at the scene. He meant what he said about Al; he's very good at his job, but he's Kehrseite and it's possible that maybe his human senses missed something.

"Or more questions," Eve agrees. Wu looks around at the group, most of them still stunned at this turn of events.

"Do you think he and Adalind and the kids are okay?" Rosalee asks softly.

"Who knows," Hank says. "According to Wu's friend, there was no sign of foul play, so maybe that's something."

"If they were okay, why wouldn't they try and get a message out and tell us they're okay? They have to know we'd be worried. Or return home?" Monroe asks. "I'm telling you, they're not okay."

"It's always possible, too, that it's not Nick, or his car at all. We could all be getting excited about nothing," Hank points out.

"Oh, are you kidding?" Monroe scoffs. "It's Nick. I can feel it."

"I'm just saying. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Hank reminds them and everyone nods obediently.

 _Too late_ , Wu thinks as he looks around again at everyone's faces.

%%%%%

It's late afternoon by the time Wu and Hank drive up to Burlington and finish shooting the shit with Al. They part amicably, with Al offering to lead them to the scene, but Wu shakes his head and he and Hank head up to the area where the Land Cruiser is still at. They meet Trubel and Monroe at a diner along the way, and grab a bite to go.

Monroe and Trubel have been, as discreetly as possible, and using a contact Rosalee knows from her time in Washington, asking around about anyone who may match a description of Nick or Adalind but so far it's been a bust.

"No one yet matches their description," Trubel reports, and honestly, it's what Wu expected. "Rosalee gave me the name of another contact she has, nothing there either, but we were able to shake down another possibility but we ran out of time."

"We'll check it out before we head back to Portland," Monroe tells them. "You guys glean any new information from your conversation with Al?"

"No, not really. Car was discovered by a tree hugger. Was upset that someone would destroy nature by leaving a car there to pollute the earth."

"He didn't see anything weird?"

"She. And no, nothing unusual was reported."

"Where's it at?"

"It's just a bit outside Burlington," Wu says. "The edge of the forest."

"Interesting place to dump a car," Trubel remarks.

"Smart place to dump a car. Depending on where it's left it could be months or years before it's discovered. In this case maybe months."

"Why would someone wait to dump it up here?" Monroe asks. "If it was the royals or Black Claw, why not dump it somewhere in Portland?"

"Maybe it wasn't either. Maybe it was Nick."

"Maybe Nick and Adalind knew whoever it was, was following them. Maybe they were hoping to get to Seattle, or Canada, before they got to them."

"How far is it to the border from here?" Trubel asks

"About thirty miles of pretty rough terrain, give or take," Wu says.

"You think they ditched the car and hiked it?"

"With two kids? In winter? They'd be crazy."

"I've said that about Nick before," Monroe says.

"Or desperate," Trubel adds.

"He was definitely that before he left," Monroe reminds them.

"You think it's possible they're in Seattle somewhere?" Hank asks them.

"Without letting us know they're okay?" Monroe says. "If they were anywhere, Nick would let us know. Somehow. Either the royals, or Black Claw, have got them, or something I don't want to even think about happened."

"Turn here," Wu directs sharply, looking down at the GPS and the instructions Al gave him.

"Here?" Hanks replies, skeptical. It's a fair question. The turn Wu is indicating barely qualifies as road of any sort. It barely qualifies as a trail, but he does as Wu asks and carefully traverses it.

"How the hell did anyone find it out here?" Hank asks. "You could die out here and no one would find your body for years."

"Let's hope that's not what happened to Nick and Adalind," Monroe says.

"I think you may have to park somewhere, Hank, and we'll hike it the rest of the way," Trubel suggests, looking around and Wu nods in agreement. What at first looked sparse from the highway has quickly become dense forest.

"Probably a good idea before we get stuck," Hank agrees.

"Did Al say how far in?" Trubel asks, looking around and Wu glances down at his notes.

"A half mile or so from the red trail marker."

"Where the hell's the red trail marker? Did we pass it?"

"It's after the very large tree with a partially hollowed out arch at the base."

"Where's that?" Trubel asks, getting out of the car. She looks around, and Wu and the others follow suit. Wu studies the landscape, and notes dozens of what he would say are very large trees surrounding them.

"Is he serious with that?" Hank asks, and Wu holds the instructions up for proof. Hank rolls his eyes and pops the trunk. "Let's grab some gear. We may need it."

Everyone grabs a portion of the hiking and detective supplies Hank and Wu brought along, and, with another look at each other, shove off in the direction some recently made tire tracks indicate.

"There must be the tree," Monroe says, pointing after about five hundred feet and Wu, Hank and Trubel look where he's indicating. A tree at the edge of the path with a pattern of bark forming an arch at the base.

"Red trail marker's next," Wu says and everyone's pace noticeably quickens. It's probably another thousand feet before they see it, and Wu notes only a solitary pair of tire tracks exists after this point. He can see why. It's incredibly dense and difficult terrain to traverse, pockmarked by tree roots and stumps and Wu marvels at how a vehicle can even come this way.

"Shouldn't be too much longer, then," Monroe says, and Wu nods.

"Good, because we're burning daylight," Hank says. Wu stares at the trail sign for a moment longer, wondering if Nick and Adalind and their kids took this trail when they ditched the car. If they ditched the car. He studies the trail map Al gave him, and notes the trail leads north, and that it's possible someone could follow it to Canada, though the path would be treacherous, and he wasn't kidding when he pointed out how unlikely it would be that Nick would risk his son and Adalind and her daughter. Up here, at this elevation, there was still the worry of being caught in a snowstorm, developing frostbite, or succumbing to hypothermia. There was plenty of snow in the mountains at the time they disappeared, and still plenty more that would fall. Whether Nick would risk the trek depends on when they ditched the car, and how prepared they were with even the most basic of supplies.

And how desperate they were to evade whatever was following them.

He follows his friends, mulling this over. They hike along the path, following a trail of tire tracks made a day ago by Al's truck.

Wu estimates it's another five hundred feet or so before the car comes into view. Everyone stops, staring, before training sets in and Hank and Wu start to look at the scene as cops. Wu sweeps his eye along the ground, looking for anything. Footprints, debris he might be able to connect with Adalind or Nick, or one of the kids (just the one, actually), signs of foul play.

"You smell anything?" Hank asks Monroe and Monroe shakes his head.

"We need to get closer," Monroe says, and together they move toward the car. Hank's still looking over the area, detective eyes trying to see what no one can see: what happened to the occupants of the vehicle. They reach the car and Monroe woges, eyes red, and nostrils flaring, as he tries to detect a scent. Hank and Wu circle the area around the SUV, looking carefully at the surroundings. There's two pairs of footprints, a large and a small one, probably a man and a woman's but they're recent and Wu deduces they're Al's and the tree hugger's. The woman's gets within a few feet of the car, and Wu follows it as Hank follows Al's. Both pairs circle the car, though Al's is far more prevalent the closer to the vehicle they are. Trubel runs her fingers carefully over one of the fenders.

"It's Nick's," she says, and Hank and Wu snap their heads from the ground to her.

"You sure?" Wu says.

"Yeah, I remember this dent in the fender," Trubel says.

Monroe looks at it, still sniffing and nods. "It looks like the one from when I hit one of the zombie's," Monroe explains and Hank raises an eyebrow and peers into the windows. Wu follows suit and frowns. The interior is empty, save for a lot of dust and dirt.

"Think it's unlocked?" Trubel asks.

"One way to find out," Wu says, and tries the door. It's not.

"One way to make it so," Hank says and smashes a small mallet from his pack through the front passenger side window.

Hank reaches in and pulls the lock, which reluctantly cooperates after fighting months of dirt and grime settling into the mechanism. He hits the power unlock and it, too, refuses to cooperate. In fact, Hank hits it a couple of times, before giving up.

"Battery's dead."

Hank pulls the lock on the rear passenger door and Trubel whips it open.

"Careful!" Hank cautions, when it looks like Trubel's just going to climb in, and it's habit, Wu knows, to have to fight the urge to disturb evidence. This isn't an investigation, not officially, and certainly not their investigation.

"Look around first, see if you notice anything," Hank directs.

"Here, move out of the way," Monroe tells him, cocking his head.

"You get something?"

Monroe doesn't answer, and Hank steps aside and allows him entry. Monroe sniffs for a long time, first the air of the cabin, and then the upholstery.

Wu wrinkles his nose in disgust, and then amusement, when Monroe sneezes two seconds later. He grins outright when Monroe yelps, covering it with a vicious growl when a chipmunk darts out from under one of the seats and out into the forest.

"Congratulations, you found Chip," Hank says with a small grin.

"I think that was Dale," Wu corrects.

"Ha, ha, guys." Everyone's nerves are on edge as Monroe shrugs sheepishly and resumes his investigation.

"It's Nick," he says thirty seconds later and everyone stiffens.

"You're sure?"

"Definitely. Definitely," he says again, as though confirming it for himself. "I lived with that guy. I've known him for years, and I know that smell. It's faint, but it's Nick. This is Nick's car!" Monroe exclaims looking at them and everyone looks around at the cabin in wonder.

"Can you tell if Adalind was with him?" Trubel asks, and Monroe inhales deeply, followed by a few short bursts.

"I think so," Monroe says. "There's another smell, several others, but they're very faint. Nick—I mean, he practically lived in this car, so his scent is much stronger."

"Several others?" Hank repeats.

Monroe shrugs.

"I can't tell for certain. I can't tell for sure if it's Adalind's, but yeah, he definitely had company. I think."

"Can you tell how recent it is?"

Monroe gives Hank a look.

"It's not like carbon dating," he says. "So no, but the scent is so faint…I'd say it's been abandoned for a while."

"Condition of the vehicle seems to corroborate that," Wu agrees, looking at the inside. Not only are there woodland creatures living in it, it's coated in dust and dirt. The exterior is beginning to rust in some spots.

"Unlock the door," Wu commands, and Monroe reaches over and pulls the lock on the driver side. It opens with a theatrical creak and Wu unlocks the back for Hank and everyone stares inside before turning to the business of looking for evidence.

Evidence of what, no one knows, but they dutifully comb the vehicle, looking under and between the seats.

"Anything?" Hank asks after a few minutes of quiet searching. Wu shakes his head.

"Nothing."

They search the cargo area while Trubel and Monroe search all the compartments but everyone comes up empty.

"Car's clean," Hank says, and Wu nods.

"Al was right. No signs of a struggle."

"How close are we to the trail we saw?" Trubel asks.

Wu shrugs. "No idea. Maybe a hundred yards, you think?" he says, looking at Hank. Hank shrugs, too.

"About that probably."

"You guys really think Nick took two kids and Adalind on that thing?"

"What's the alternative?" Trubel asks.

"If they hiked that…" Hank begins, looking past the trees where likely the trail lead.

"They're crazy," Wu finishes.

"I said it before, Nick's been called that before."

"Yeah, but would Nick risk his family?"

"If he had to? If there was no choice?"

"There's always another possibility," Wu posits.

"What's that?"

"They're somewhere nearby."

"What's around here?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot," Hank answers, looking around. "What's the map say?"

"Uhhh…that's there's not a whole hell of a lot," Wu confirms looking at it for a few seconds. "It's all national or state forest."

"So, doubtful they're living here."

"Burlington?"

"I don't know, Burlington's a small town. Kind of town where new people would stick out, don't you think?"

"Doesn't hurt to ask around," Hank says.

"Do we want to do any more here?" Wu asks them. Monroe moves around, testing the air and shakes his head.

"Even if they did take the trail, it's been so long, I won't be able to tell."

"We want to hike it and see if we see anything along the way?" Trubel asks them.

"We don't have time," Hank answers. "We've basically got today to search around. If we're gone any longer, we're liable to excite Hendrick's curiosity."

"Not to mention the mayor's," Wu adds dryly.

"Trubel and I can hang around a few days, and check it out," Monroe offers.

"You sure?" Trubel asks him.

"Yeah," Monroe replies definitely. "I'm not leaving until I have some answers."

"Okay, well, let's check out Burlington, and see what we turn up."

%%%%%

What they turn up is more of the same: a big fat lot of nothing. They ask around as carefully as possible, but it doesn't appear anyone has seen a man and a woman with two small children that match the description of who they're looking for. It's difficult juggling their quest for answers with possibly tipping the residents off to something that may complicate Nick and Adalind's safety, if they are hiding, rather than help them. Monroe and Hank pair up and shake the trees of the Wesen community while Wu and Trubel check in with Rosalee and Eve.

"Did you find anything? Was it Nick?" are the first words out of Rosalee's mouth when she answers. She's on speakerphone with Trubel and Wu, and from the noise in the background so are they.

"It's Nick," Trubel confirms.

"Oh, my god," Rosalee breathes.

"You're sure?" Eve pipes in, and Wu can plainly hear the emotional note in her voice.

"Yeah," Wu says. "Monroe swears it's him."

"Any sign of them?"

"None so far," Wu says. "No signs of a struggle. Car's been there a while. A couple of months at least. Maybe longer."

"Do you think they went across the border?" Rosalee asks, and Trubel looks at Wu.

"I don't know. There's a trail, but it—it's awfully…I don't think he'd risk Adalind and the kids. He'd find another way," Wu says and Trubel nods.

"Any sign of a threat? Royals? Anything that might be after them?" Eve asks.

"Nothing," Trubel says. "There doesn't appear to be any presence of a royal in Seattle. As far as we've known, Renard has always been the only one in the US, and it doesn't look like anything about that has changed. Monroe and I got another lead to check on, and tomorrow we're going to check out the trail in the mountains, but…"

"Now we've got more questions than answers," Rosalee finishes.

"Yeah. Unfortunately," Wu agrees.

"What's your other lead?" Eve asks and Wu looks at Trubel.

"The apothecary that you gave us—"

"Jeremiah? Did he have something?"

"Yeah, no, he didn't have anything, but he mentioned somebody by the name of Harrek."

"Harrek?"

"Yeah, you heard of him before?"

"No. Who is he?"

"Apparently, he's a Moroccan artisan. He owns a local shop here."

"And Jeremiah referred him to you?"

"Grudgingly," Trubel replies and Wu suppresses a snort of laughter.

"You think it's a trap?" Eve asks, but Wu's not sure if she's asking them or Rosalee. It's Rosalee who answers, at any rate.

"I don't know. What did Jeremiah have to say about Harrek?"

"Said if anyone's in the position to know anything about what we're looking for, or whom we're looking for, it's Harrek."

"Damn it," Wu hears Eve mutter. "What I wouldn't give for access to the Wesen database."

"Tell me about it," Trubel says. "Wu's having his friend Al run the name through police records, but I don't think anything's going to turn up."

"Probably not," Rosalee agrees. "Where is Monroe? Is he with you?"

"He and Hank went to visit some of the Wesen community here Burlington, but I don't think we're going to find anything."

"Why should we catch a break now?" Wu says.

"You doing okay?" Trubel asks Rosalee.

"I'm fine. Baby's fine. No worries. Eve's keeping a close eye on me," Rosalee says and Wu raises his eyebrows. "Tell Monroe I said to be careful."

"We will. I'm sure he'll call you later."

"He better."

%%%%%

"You sure this is a good idea?" Wu asks Trubel for the third time.

"You got a better one?"

"We could wait for Hank and Monroe."

"We could, but we could be wasting time."

"This could be a waste of time."

"Well, then Monroe and I won't have to waste time on it tomorrow. We can just head straight up to the trail."

Wu rolls his eyes but concedes the point.

"You hear anything back yet from Monroe?"

Trubel checks her phone. "Nothing yet. You?"

"No."

"Looks like it's just us then."

"Okay. How do you want to play it?"

They're standing on the sidewalk, a hundred yards away from the shop Harrek owns. It's an unassuming four-story brick structure in Northeastern Seattle. The brick's been painted, several times, as evidence by the paint peeling and flaking off of it. There's a huge glass window and glass-paneled oak door to the left of it.

Wu can make out a few displays in the window: some pottery, beaded jewelry, and a couple of paintings, and what appears to be a carpet, similar to those he's always associated with flying ones. Demand for Moroccan artistry must not be high, at least this time of year, or in this part of the city, since they've been watching the place for the last two hours and have only seen one person enter and exit, empty-handed, in that time frame. The whole city block isn't exactly a hub of commerce and prosperity, either. Nor does it appear to be part of an epicenter of Moroccan culture.

"Why would a Moroccan artisan open a shop here?" Wu says looking around.

"Rent's probably cheap."

"Yeah. You think they make enough selling pottery and beads to cover it?"

Trubel looks at the building again.

"Probably not."

"Well, let's see what else he's selling."

"One minute," a voice calls when an electronic chime sounds as they enter. Wu glances around, noting Trubel's doing the same. The shop is small, probably no more than two hundred square feet, packed with myriad examples of Moroccan art and culture.

Trubel carefully lifts a vase and looks it over before flipping it upside down to look at the bottom.

"Made in China," she reads.

"Why not? Everything else is."

Trubel sets the vase down with a little less caution than when she lifted it and looks up when she hears a pair of footsteps.

It's a male, approximately five-foot-ten, maybe eleven, with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He looks to be in his mid-to-late thirties, and Wu frowns as he scrutinizes him. There's something not right—his movements unnatural, as is his expression. He smiles in all the right places though, and he fixes Trubel and Wu with a polite and welcoming grin.

"Hello, how can I assist you today?" The speech is not punctuated by anything other than perfectly delivered English.

"We're interested in something you might be able to help us with."

"Oh? Are you interested in owning a piece Moroccan history?"

"From China? No," Wu says. "We're looking for information. Jeremiah said you might be able to help us."

The man frowns, eyes darting quickly from Trubel to Wu.

"I don't think I can help you," he says mechanically.

"We just want to know if you've come across someone here lately. Here, let me show you a picture," Wu says and Harrek glances over his shoulder, the weird set of his eyes exaggerating the movement. Trubel looks, too, alert and tense and Wu deduces the three of them aren't the only ones in the shop.

"Somebody else with you?"

"Just my father," he mumbles.

"Call him out here, maybe he can help us, too."

The man hesitates, eyeing Wu strangely before calling over his shoulder.

"Papa! We have customers."

An older gentleman appears shortly, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Hello, how may I help you?" His pronunciation is accented, educated probably in England, Wu would guess. He deduces the son is probably American-born.

"Are you Harrek? The proprietor of the shop?" Wu asks.

"Yes," Harrek says.

"And this is your son?"

"Yes, I am Askari, and this is Asil. How may we help you?" Askari's smile is more strained, and Wu surmises he detects something fishy about Wu's and Trubel's purpose for being there.

"They are looking for information" Asil informs his father quietly.

"On Moroccan culture? Absolutely."

"No, not on Moroccan culture. We understand that you may be able to help us find someone," Wu tells him.

"I'm sorry, we procure hard to find items, but not people," Askari says stiffly. "What you want is a few blocks from here."

"No, not trafficking," Wu says.

"Jeremiah said you could help us," Trubel interjects, and Askari eyes her with disdain.

"Jeremiah?" He glances at his son accusingly.

"Yeah, and we're not leaving until you do," Trubel adds, and Askari eyes her with a flat look.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I won't be able to be much assistance."

"Try."

Askari glances at his son again, and then at Wu and Trubel.

"I don't know what I could help you with," he says dismissively. "We just run a simple shop here. Collectibles and such."

"Right," Wu says, looking around. "That's not what Jeremiah indicated."

"I'm afraid I can't imagine what he could be talking about."

"He's talking about you help other Wesen," Trubel clarifies, "With certain things."

Askari locks eyes in surprise with Trubel. A second later he woges.

"Grimm! Grimm!" he squawks, revealing a peculiarly inked Wesen visage. His son comes alive, showing more animation than anything they've seen previously as he woges to. Harrek Junior lashes out, but Trubel reacts quickly, blocking the blow. Wu summons the Neanderthal-like were-creature that's become the new him and joins the fray.

The scuffle is brief, won handily by Trubel, and fortunately the only casualty is the Chinese-manufactured vase and a couple of other items.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Trubel says sharply. "If you help us," she adds.

"With what?" Askari gasps nervously.

"Information."

"You said you procure hard to find items," Wu says, taking control of the conversation again.

"Yes," Askari agrees.

"Like what?"

"Anything really. Papers—"

"Papers? Like documents? Like official documents? Passports, IDs and such?"

"And such. Birth certificates, licenses, and the like."

"Did you do anything like that for this woman or this man?" Wu holds out the photo they have on record of Adalind, courtesy of that time when Nick arrested her on suspicion of her mother's murder and threw her in jail. The picture he has of Nick is an old one, poached from a newspaper clipping featuring the young detective Burkhardt's successful recovery of a missing girl. Wu understands now that it was the first Wesen case Nick worked as a Grimm.

Harrek looks over the picture.

"I've never seen this man," Harrek says and Wu forces himself not to acknowledge the wave of disappointment. "He is a police officer?" Harrek adds, looking at Wu in concern. No doubt he's suddenly aware of all the legal trouble he's potentially in.

"Yes," Wu says. "We're not here to arrest you. We just need information." Harrek eyes him distrustfully before flicking his eyes to Trubel and then back to the pictures Wu's holding.

"And her…there was a woman…but it was a long time ago, and she didn't look like that."

"What did she look like?"

"Small. Short. Petite, I think you call it. Hair was dark. Brown hair. I didn't get a good look at her face. She came in a couple of times."

"Did she have any kids with her? A young girl? A baby?"

"No," Harrek shakes his head. "She was alone when I saw her, but I only saw her briefly both times."

"Did she speak with you?"

"No, she knew my son. She only spoke with him. And now look at him," he says bitterly. "Something's not right."

Wu and Trubel glance at Harrek junior.

"Did she do something?" Trubel asks.

Harrek nods. "Something's not right. When I asked him about her—he—he—"

"He…?"

"He couldn't even speak of her. Like literally. Physically."

"Like…?"

"You think maybe a spell was used?" Trubel suggests. Harrek scoffs derisively.

"Yes, like a spell. Hexenbiest, I'm sure. Vilest of Wesen, I tell you."

Trubel looks at Wu, eyes wide, while Wu argues silently in his head over the validity of that statement. He's certainly met Wesen worse than Adalind. Still, he can't help but share in Trubel's excitement. A Hexenbiest, procuring fake documents…Short. Petite.

It doesn't mean it's them, he tells himself sternly.

"What did the woman want?" He asks, getting back to the topic at hand.

Harrek debates, lips twitching.

"Harrek…"

"Documents."

"Documents?"

"Papers."

"What kind of papers? IDs?"

"Probably. He never could say," Harrek says, nodding at his son.

"How long ago was this?" Wu asks, getting out a pen and jotting down some notes.

"Maybe seven, eight months ago? I don't know. A long time."

"And you've never seen or heard from this woman again?"

Harrek shakes his head. "No."

"Would you have any copies of the documents? Any drafts? Receipts?"

Harrek shakes his head again. "No, we don't keep any of that around here."

Understandably. Best not to be keeping evidence of your illegal activities if you're ever subject to a raid, Wu thinks.

"Is there any security footage?"

Harrek shakes his head. "No, we reuse the tapes after thirty days. There'd be nothing after all this time."

"Anything else you can tell us? Did you see what kind of car she got in?" Trubel asks desperately. Harrek shakes his head again.

"No. I'm sorry. My son would have more information, but as you can see, he's not much help."

Wu turns to Asil, noting the slightly glazed expression on his face as they've been talking.

"Asil, any information you can provide us about his woman," Wu says as he holds out Adalind's picture. "It would help us."

There's a strange reaction to Adalind's photo when Asil sees it. A strange non-reaction. His eyes are devoid of anything, recognition, life, and he shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"Are you sure?" Trubel says, taking the photo. "Look at it. The woman, she had brown hair? Short, blue eyes? Any of it ringing a bell?"

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," Asil says again, and Askari intervenes.

"I tell you, something's not right. That woman, she did something."

"Maybe Eve can undo it," Wu says quietly to Trubel and Trubel shakes her head.

"I doubt it, but maybe. It's worth a shot."

"Thank you for your time," Wu says to Askari and he nods hurriedly, clearly hoping to usher them out as quickly as possible. "Here's my number. If you have any more information—if you find anything—or hear from the woman, call me."

"Yes, yes, of course."

"Sorry about the vase," Trubel offers and Askari looks at her, brows knitting in confusion.

"No, no, problem. It was an accident," Askari assures. Not really, since Trubel very plainly picked it up and hurled it at him, but Wu doesn't voice his opinion.

They allow Askari to usher them out on the sidewalk and a second later the shop door shuts with a bang. They hear the lock engage and a second later some raised voices.

Wu and Trubel listen for a few moments, both hoping to hear something important in the exchange, but Wu's conversational Moroccan isn't up to snuff, and apparently neither is Trubel's. They look at each other for a second.

"We need to call Hank," Wu says.

"They need to get their asses up here," Trubel agrees.

%%%%%

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. Say that again."

"I think we found Adalind. Or someone who helped Adalind."

"This shop person—"

"Harrek," Trubel supplies.

"Harrek," Hank says. "He described a woman trying to obtain fake documents?"

"Yeah, we think so," Trubel says.

"A Hexenbiest woman," Wu adds pointedly.

"But she had brown hair?" Monroe says suspiciously.

"Yeah, but she was short, like Adalind."

"Maybe Adalind got in contact with a Hexenbiest friend," Hank says, looking at them.

"I don't think she has very many of those," Monroe retorts, shaking his head.

"Well who do we know who could tell us about any Hexenbiests living in the area. There can't be that many of them?" Hank argues.

"Besides Adalind? Or Eve. No one. Hexenbiest's aren't typically very friendly."

"Renard's mother. She's a hexenbiest."

"Guys. Maybe it wasn't a friend of Adalind. Maybe it was Adalind herself. Maybe she changed her hair. Small, short? Good with a spell? That sounds like Adalind," Trubel insists.

"It does," Hank agrees.

"Okay, say it is Adalind. Now what?"

They look at each other.

"She was getting documents?"

"Most likely. Harrek's shop deals in falsifying records and legal documents. He can get anything. Licenses, backgrounds. He and his son can create whole new lives for people if they wanted to."

"So, we know seven or eight months ago Adalind, at least, was alive, and if she's still alive, she's living under an assumed name."

"If she's still alive, why wouldn't she reach out?"

"Maybe she's not safe, or doesn't think she's safe."

"Are we assuming Nick's not with her?"

"The guy said he never saw Nick."

"No kids?"

"No," Trubel confirms.

"She wouldn't just leave her kids with anybody. Nick's alive."

"Yeah, but where are they? And who are they hiding from?"

"Uh, guys," Wu says hesitantly. He's been listening to them converse back and forth as an idea, long dormant, starts to come to life again. Trubel, Hank and Monroe pause and look at him expectantly. "Maybe we need to consider another theory."

He licks his lips, and looks up at the rest of the gang. It seems so unlikely, but nothing else fits. Not with the evidence they have.

"What?" Hank asks warily.

"Maybe Adalind, and Nick, are perfectly fine. Maybe…maybe they don't want to be found."

%%%%


	21. Part Five - Chapter One

"Dave! Dave! Shit, man, oh, holy shit!"

 _Who the fuck is Dave?_ Nick wants to ask, but he can't seem to get his mouth to work. A second later a man in a thick green parka drops to his knees at Nick's side and Nick meets the worried gaze of his boss.

Jake.

Right, Jake.

"Dave! Shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck!"

Right. He's Dave.

"Immkay." Nick moves his tongue around and Jake expels a breath of relief loudly.

"Dave. Can you sit up?"

"I'm okay," Nick tries again, and succeeds in making himself understood and placating Jake's worry.

"Are you kidding me?" Jake exclaims.

Okay, maybe not. Nick reaches a shaky hand to the burning at his side, in his side. His parka is ripped and his fingers comes away bloody, though not as much as he would think given the pain he's feeling. Nick stares uncomprehendingly for a moment, before training kicks in for Jake and he begins to assess Nick's wound and apply first aid.

"Can you sit up?" Jake asks him again and Nick nods, though it takes everything he has not to succumb to the urge to shake his head no emphatically. He just kind of wants to lie there for a while, gather his bearings, but he's cold and it comes to him that he's lying in the snow and he has no idea how long he's been lying there before Jake found him.

"Okay, give me your hand."

Nick obliges, trying to ignore the trembling in the appendage and Jake takes a firm hold on his hand and helps him to a sitting position. They both ignore the sound Nick makes.

"I'm okay," Nick says again breathlessly.

"The hell you are. We've got to get you to a hospital. Do you think you can walk?"

Does he have a choice? His options are to lie there in the snow and die or get up and walk and possibly live long enough to complete the trek to the car. There's no way he's going to a hospital though.

"It's just a scratch," he insists. "It's not deep," he adds when Jake gives him a look of incredulity. And it's not, but if feels like he's been knifed in the guts and he's starting to worry what the disparity between what he feels and what he sees means. _You're overreacting._ "I think my jacket got the worst of it," he says, hoping to erase the look of doubt on Jake's face.

"Let's get you up," Jake says, and extends his arm again. Nick takes it and together they manage to get him standing, though Nick's sweating by the time they do, and he wonders if he's developing a fever.

 _You're being paranoid._

"How long was I lying there?" Nick asks, and he doesn't think it helps his case against going to a hospital.

"No idea," Jake says. "I tried to radio you when I got back to the truck, but you never responded. Got a little worried and came back out here looking for you. Found you in the snow. I'm guessing probably an hour or so," Jake says. "Took me a while to get to you." He looks at Nick, teetering on his feet unsteadily. "I've got a sled in the truck I can go get and we could lay you on it."

Nick shakes his head. It would mean another hour lost, and though Nick's trying to downplay how he feels, he doesn't think he can wait another hour out here. He's not sure what happened, but he doesn't want to be alone and injured if something were to happen again. He kneels awkwardly to grab his rifle out of the snow, and Jake brushes a hand against him to stop and scoops it up. He slings it over his shoulder and looks at Nick.

"You sure you can walk back to the truck?"

"I'll manage."

Jake sets his mouth in a grim line and then slings Nick's arm around his neck and together they start the slow trek back to the truck. Nick's side burns with every step, but he grits his teeth and says nothing, trying not to let on how much pain he's in. The burning sensation feels like it's getting worse, and Nick wonders if that means an infection is setting in, or worse, some sort of poison or reaction to whatever hit him.

"Did you see what it was? Was it the wolf?" Jake asks breathlessly, and Nick wishes he could take some of his weight off of him, but there's no way without him face-planting into the snow. When they get to more level ground Nick thinks he can manage by himself, but it's still a long walk until then.

Nick shakes his head.

"No."

He has no idea what got to him. It wasn't the wolf. He was staring at it the whole time. No way it moved that fast. He wonders if his original thought was right: that maybe it's hunting for a pack, or another wolf, but he doesn't think that's right either. He keeps remembering the piece of flannel he found, the uneasy feeling he had that whatever was roaming the woods might be Wesen. It's always Wesen, he thinks.

"I don't think so," Nick continues, but there's not as much certainty as he'd like and Jake must think it due to shock or injury. He doesn't know how to explain what he's thinking so he leaves Jake to his assumptions and focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.

They stop frequently, Jake needing the rest, Nick, too, though he'd never admit it. He knows as soon as they reach the truck, Jake is going to point it in the direction of the nearest hospital, and Nick wasn't kidding when he thought there's no way he's going to one. There's too much of a risk of discovery, and though the documents Adalind acquired were good enough to get him this job, he doesn't want to subject them to any more scrutiny than strictly necessary.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he was still carrying the stick.

There's also the fact they can't really afford an unexpected hospital expense. They can't even afford a table to eat on, or a bed for him to lie on, so there's no reason - even with the insurance that doesn't kick in for another two weeks, he remembers suddenly - to subject themselves to hospital bills when a few days of recovery is all his body probably needs with his accelerated healing. Maybe even less if he uses the stick.

So, he focuses on making sure that his movements reflect his claim that he's okay, that he'll be okay, and that going to the hospital's unnecessary. By the time they reach more level ground, he thinks he can manage on his own the rest of the way and tells Jake he's good.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I don't think I'm going to win any races the next couple of days, but I can manage. I don't think there's any need to take me to a hospital. Pain's already subsiding. Like I said, the coat got most of it."

"You should still probably have it checked out. Some of those wounds looked like they might be deep."

They feel like it.

"I'm good. Let's head back to the office. I can get a better look at it there and we can see if any further treatment is necessary."

Jake looks doubtful, but Nick knows if he agrees to head back to the office, then he's half way to being able to convince Jake he's okay enough to go home.

Although when Adalind hears about what happened he might wish he'd taken Jake up on the hospital. He wonders if he can fake it enough that she won't notice.

Not likely. She notices everything, and it was even harder to hide things when she was lying six centimeters from him in a cramped sleeping bag. God, the thought of lying on his side makes his eyes water, and he wonders if there's any excuse he can think of that leaves him to suffer in his misery alone tonight.

He reigns in a resigned sigh. He needs to tell her what happened. Their history always made it difficult to share vulnerabilities with the other in their present relationship, but Adalind was right, they need to trust each other, and at this point, they only _have_ each other. It isn't like he can hide this from her while he goes to Rosalee for help. They were on their own here out in the sticks, and Adalind was likely his best bet to help him if it is anything serious and Wesen related, anyway. She would probably be able to identify the scratch and concoct a salve or potion to take care of it. He wouldn't even need the stick and it could stay safely hidden under the house.

He frowns, decision reluctantly made and continues plodding along to Jake's vehicle.

He's not looking forward to explaining what happened. He's spent the better part of the last two weeks down-playing any danger about his job and he's hardly mentioned the thing with the wolf. He's definitely made sure not to let on that he suspicions that there might be a Wesen component to what's going on in the woods around here. Given her skepticism about him being able to put aside being a Grimm, and avoid discovery, and his insistence on focusing on raising their family as normally as possible (whatever that is), it seemed especially important to maintain the illusion that everything was going to be fine.

They've spent months now cultivating their lie, to the point where Nick's almost believing it himself. He can admit he likes the idea of going to home to a wife and children. He enjoys being free to express his feelings for Adalind without getting bogged down in their history, or what his friends might think, the guilt he sometimes felt when he saw Eve looking at him a certain way, knowing he was literally sleeping with their once shared enemy. The confusion he sometimes felt over wanting her and loving her after everything she'd done to him, and he, her. He enjoys looking after, and being able to spend time with, his family. When he takes away all the worry and secrecy he's devoted to maintaining the facade, and avoiding detection, they've had a nice quiet life together, even despite the difficulties they face.

They reach Jake's truck a short time later, and Nick almost sags against it in relief. It's short-lived after he realizes he has to heft himself up into it, and it's even worse after they start the journey back, every jostle of the vehicle agony.

"Man, you're as white as a sheet," Jake says. "I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"No!" Nick barks, panicked. "No, I'm okay. Really. It just looks and feels worse than it is."

"Well, it looks like death, man. _You_ look like death."

God, he hopes it isn't. The nervousness he feels from not knowing what attacked him doesn't help calm him any either, but he tells himself his pallor is likely the remnants of his body's reaction to the cracher-mortel toxin that lingers and surfaces from time to time.

"I'm fine."

Jake snorts.

"I will be, just need some basic first aid and some rest and I promise you in a few days I'll be as good as new."

"Yeah, that or dead."

%%%%%

Jake's relieved to see that the wounds are not as deep or as bad as he fears when they reach the office and Nick's able to peel back his layers of clothing to get a good look.

Nick wishes he could say he's relieved, too, except that the burning in his side has not abated. It feels like it's steadily intensifying, maybe like it might be infected, and that doesn't match with the wound, which looks like it's already healing up, and he feels his worry ratchet up a notch at the disparity.

Nick stares down at it, mentally going through everything he's read in the Grimm books about anything remotely close to this, but there's frankly a lot of stuff he's never gotten through or had translated, or not even included in them.

Jake redresses the wound and applies a bandage, complete with a topical antibiotic cream, and instead of making it start to feel better it starts to feel worse.

Maybe he's having a reaction to the medicine, he thinks, but he's never had a reaction to it before.

"Want me to drive you home?" Jake asks, and Nick breathes a silent sigh that Jake is going to let the hospital thing go.

"No, I got it," Nick says. He doesn't want Jake to get any ideas that he's not okay, and furthermore, he's trying to keep Adalind and the kids as much out of public view as possible in order to protect them.

"You're a tough SOB, I'll say that," Jake comments with a small smile.

 _Or a stupid one_ , Nick thinks.

An hour later he thinks, _definitely stupid._ He's practically curled over the steering wheel his side hurts so bad, and he's definitely sweating. He pulls his shirt up out of his pants, and pulls at the bandage underneath. He's got to get it off. He rips it off with a wince and tries to peer down at the wound. It's pulsing, and instead of the faint pink marks of earlier, it's angry red and definitely showing signs of being infected.

 _Shit_ , Nick thinks.

He probably is having some kind of reaction to the medicine Jake put on it. Maybe it's old and went bad, and he's probably going to need some kind of oral antibiotic if his body doesn't kick this on its own.

 _Right_ , _keep telling yourself that, Nick._

It's not some weird Wesen shit at all.

It's Diana who skips out to him from her seat on the porch when he finally gets home. He gets the impression she's been waiting for him, though he's actually home early. Still, he'd been hoping for a small reprieve before he had to gather his courage and muster a smile and go inside and brave the elements that is a tiny, formerly blonde, very formidable when angry or worried, Hexenbiest.

"Hi Nick!" Diana chirps, and he supposes at another time he'd be glad for the enthusiastic greeting. Their relationship is still a bit rocky and hesitant, as he senses unease and uncertainty from her as it becomes clearer that his role in her life is that of a step-father/father-figure replacement for Renard.

"Hi," he manages.

"We have a surprise for you!" she tells him excitedly and he musters a smile.

"Oh yeah?" he says, wishing it was late and everyone was asleep and he could just lie here over the steering wheel writhing in pain and agony in peace. Why hadn't he called Adalind and told her he would be late, and then drove somewhere and tended to his wounds alone?

Because she would be able to tell something was up over the phone, he reminds himself. And, also because cell service to the cabin was sketchy anyway.

"Yeah," she says, pulling his attention back to Diana. "Mommy says you'll like it."

Diana's standing impatiently at the driver side door, watching him, waiting for him to get out. He stifles a sigh, and gathers a breath instead and turns to carefully exit the vehicle. It's a slow, excruciatingly painful process, and he's gasping by the time he struggles to his feet. Diana watches all this wordlessly as the smile fades from her face.

He flashes a pained grin at her, trying to put her mind at ease, and more importantly, delay her from skipping into the house ahead of him to tell Adalind something's not right.

Actually, though, he feels like he's about to pass out, so maybe he should hurry her along to do just that.

"Hey sweetheart," he says, and she raises her eyebrows. "Why don't you run and get your mom for me for a sec. Okay?" _Please,_ he wants to add.

"It'll ruin the surprise," she informs him, hesitating. "Are you hurt?" she asks him, taking note of his stance. He's clutching his injured side he realizes, and her mouth flattens into disapproval. She looks remarkably like Adalind. She holds an arm out towards him and Nick flinches, unsure what she's doing as her eyes purple and his side begins to tingle even more uncomfortably. It rapidly multiplies ten-fold and he sucks in a breath, trying not to cry out.

She drops her hand and turns and heads back in side. Nick sags against the fender of the jeep and slowly slides off.

%%%%%

"Nick? Nick!"

He thinks he moans, which doesn't exactly inspire confidence if he's going to continue the charade of he's "just fine."

"Diana, honey, go get some more water and heat it up. Bring me some more towels, too," he hears Adalind instruct and there's relief at knowing she's taking charge of the situation mingled with the regret of having worried her.

"Nick?" she says, turning back to him and he opens his eyes reluctantly. He's lying on a bed and it feels outstanding. His feet are hanging off the edge of the bed, but still. He's forgotten how good a mattress feels and for a moment he just revels in the warmth and the softness.

It's then he realizes that he's very warm, hot even, and he registers his side is a steady throb of heat. He jerks his head off the pillow ( _God, a pillow_ a portion of his mind salivates) and looks down at his torso, bare, except for some wet strips of terry cloth lying across his wound. Adalind's seated next to him on the bed—Diana's bed, he realizes—and he smiles sheepishly.

"Hey sweetheart," he says, throwing out one of the epithets they've been trying out for each other with their new identities, though it still feels weird sometimes to address Adalind as anything other than her given name. Especially when she's giving him a look like the one she's giving him now.

"What happened?" she asks flatly, looking worried and annoyed at the same time.

"I'm not exactly sure," he admits, looking back down at his injury. She raises an eyebrow and leans forward, studying the wound.

"Did you see what it was?"

"No," he says and she leans back, studying him with a frown. He avoids her eyes, feeling like her look is tinged with censure, that he committed so fully to his role of "normal," he let his guard down and got himself hurt, thus potentially putting them all at risk, but maybe that's more his feelings than hers.

Diana returns, carrying a steaming bowl of liquid, a couple of towels trailing, hanging in the air behind her. Kelly, crawling like a bug on the floor a few feet beyond, also appears. He smiles big when he sees Nick and hustles over to his mother's side.

"Thank you," Adalind says, taking the bowl and goes to set it at her feet beside her, before spying Kelly and switching to place it on the other side of her, away from their son.

Nick looks around him again. "How did I get inside here?"

"Diana came and got me; she told me something was wrong with you. We found you outside on the ground. You had passed out. We carried you," Adalind replies, and Nick raises an eyebrow, wondering how a child and a five-foot nothing woman managed lugging him into the house before his mind helpfully supplies _powerful hexenbiests_. "You have no idea what happened? You didn't see anything at all?"

He's silent, debating on what to say and how much.

"Nick," she prompts testily. "I can't help you unless you tell me what you know."

"I didn't see what hit me," Nick says. "I was watching something else, and the next thing I could recall was waking up in the snow."

"Waking up? You passed out again before this?"

"Kind of," Nick hedges and Adalind's frown deepens.

"Why didn't you go to a hospital? Was it like this when you came to?" she says, prodding the wound and Nick swears he feels something move on its own underneath her fingers. His head jerks up again to look. The wound is now an alarming shade of red, with raised welts that are, yes, pulsating disturbingly.

"Um, not exactly," he says, daring to move a finger to investigate himself.

"What did it look like?"

"It was bleeding. Before," he says and then hastens to add at her look, "but not bad. It didn't look like I needed to go the hospital." Which isn't exactly true.

"Where's your coat?" she asks him.

"I must have left it at the office," he says. That was by design. His parka looked like it had gotten caught in a shredder. His shirt, though also shredded, didn't look nearly as alarming as the coat, despite being closer to his body and having absorbed the blood from the wound. Adalind frowns again.

"Diana? You remember what ridgewort looks like?" she asks her daughter and Diana nods. "Put on your coat and bring me some. About a handful, okay?"

"Is Nick going to be okay?" Diana asks in a touchingly concerned voice, and Nick quietly exhales some of the worry he had that she might not be sad—or averse to helping—to see him go.

"We're going to try and make him better," Adalind promises soothingly. "Make sure you put on your hat and some gloves."

Diana nods and leaves, as Kelly uses the bedding to pull himself up into a standing position. He wobbles precariously, still gripping the quilt tightly. He grins again at Nick when Nick looks at him, and Adalind smiles down distractedly at her son before she scoops Kelly up and into her arms. Soon, he'll be walking, Nick thinks, and it seems impossible that so much time has gone by since they brought him home from the hospital.

"What else were you looking at?" she asks Nick, settling their son on her lap.

"What?"

"You said you didn't see what hit you because you were looking at something else. What else were you looking at?"

"A wolf," Nick replies after a moment and Adalind glances up at him.

"Do you think it attacked you?" she asks, sounding hopeful and doubtful at the same time.

"No, it couldn't have," Nick says, shaking his head. "No way it could have moved that fast from where it was. Besides, I was looking straight at it. I would have seen it coming."

"Did another one attack you?" she asks with the same lilt.

"I don't think so," he says. "Why does me getting possibly mauled by a wolf make you happy?"

"It doesn't make me happy," she retorts indignantly, "but I know how to treat a wolf bite. I don't know what this is, Nick," she says worriedly, indicating his wound. "It's not blutbaden." She prods at it again and Nick shifts as the pain intensifies. "It looks like it had large claws. Not Jagerbar. You didn't see anything?"

Nick shakes his head. "I doubt it's wesen," he tries. "Maybe I'm just having some kind of an allergic reaction. Jake put some salve on it that I think expired in 2010."

"Jake let you go home like this?"

"I told you, it didn't look that bad before."

"It's wesen," she says, "but I'm not sure what kind."

"What's hogworts supposed to do?"

"Ridgewort," she corrects. "It should reduce the pain and swelling from most wesen inflicted injuries. Usually their claws or saliva have a chemical in them that produces this kind of response, but this seems like it's more extreme than that," she murmurs, eyeing it dubiously.

"It's probably because I'm a Grimm," Nick sighs, trying not to squirm under the pain and the scrutiny. "I react differently to things."

"I know," she says, and he reasons she would, given their history. "You think whatever it was realized you were a Grimm?"

He has no idea, because he never saw it. However, he's been careful to wear his sunglasses faithfully, making sure if he encounters someone he doesn't blow their carefully constructed covers. Whatever got him, he thinks it was just taking advantage of the opportunity to find its prey alone in the woods. "I think whatever it was just saw an opportunity and took it."

"Great, so we only have to figure out what type it might be."

"That live in the woods? How many kinds are there?"

"About a couple dozen or so."

"Really?" She flicks her eyes towards him and nods.

He wants to ask if any of them are partial to wearing flannel but he doesn't think the question would go over well. It's possible whatever is attacking in the woods is going there for that reason only. Perhaps it lives in Whitefish or one of the smaller surrounding communities and only goes out in the woods to hunt and feed. It wouldn't be the first wesen he's encountered that has done so.

"So why wouldn't it, when it attacked, finish you off?"

"Disappointed?" Nick asks sarcastically and Adalind gives him another ill-humored look. "I don't know," Nick says. "Maybe it got scared off when Jake came looking for me."

That doesn't seem right either. He doesn't know how long he was out in the woods before whatever it was attacked, but he thinks he was tracking the wolf for a little while. Fifteen? Twenty minutes? He's not sure. Jake said it had been an hour since he'd seen him, he thought. So, had forty-minutes passed between the time when he hit the ground and when Jake found him? Forty minutes was plenty of time to sit and enjoy a meal. Least enjoy a nibble. So what was the purpose of attacking him and then leaving him there? Was it going to come back later? Just proving a point? That was a disconcerting concept, particularly since that would imply it had the very human (and wesen) capabilities of emotional intelligence. And what does the wolf have to do with it? Why was it there at that very moment? Does whatever it is use it as a diversion?

"Do wesen normally keep pets?"

Adalind gives him a strange look. "If they want to raise their own meal, or after-dinner snack. Depends on the wesen, I guess, bu no, not usually. Why?"

"No reason," Nick says and Adalind looks at him sharply.

"Nick," she intones warningly. "Why?"

"I'm just wondering about the wolf," Nick admits. "Why it was there watching me."

"Probably because you were watching it."

"Maybe," Nick says, and Adalind frowns again. Nick shifts again on the bed, trying to alleviate the burning that never seems to stop. "It won't quit burning," Nick says at Adalind's inquisitive look.

"It's burning?" she asks, eyes flicking up to him, before looking back down, studying it intently. "I wish I had some of my books."

 _Me, too,_ Nick thinks.

He hears the door to the cabin bang open and then Diana's excited voice: "I found some!"

"Good," Adalind says, getting off the bed and intercepting her a few feet into the room. "Here, take your brother, and keep an eye on Nick," she instructs and Diana hands her the herbs, a rather wilted looking leafy green with a tiny, peculiar blue flower, Nick observes.

Diana moves to the other side of the bed, and peers over Nick to study the wound in his side. She stares at it for a long time, one eyebrow furrowing as though confused.

"It looks worse than it is," he says, trying to assuage her fear, but she doesn't appear to be overly concerned. More curious than anything. "Your mom will get me fixed right up and I'll be fine," he says, smiling through his discomfort.

"It hasn't started to work, yet," Diana says ominously and Nick's smile falters.

"The medicine?"

"No, the poison," Diana says, shaking her head as though she's genuinely confused as to why. Nick stares at her, feeling his nervousness ratchet up at her comment. Diana holds out her arm as her eyes halo with purple and Nick jerks suddenly, sucking in a breath as his side feels like its smoldering. He feels water slide from his eyes down the side of his face. He must make a noise because Adalind appears a second later in the doorway, holding the bowl she had earlier.

"Diana!" Adalind gasps. "What are you doing? Stop that! You're hurting him!" she accuses, slightly horrified. Diana drops her arm and turns to her mother.

"It's the poison," she says. "I can feel it. The bad stuff inside."

"The poison?" Adalind asks in surprise. "It's poison? How do you know?"

Good question, Nick wants to say, but he's busy trying to pretend like what Diana just did _didn't_ bake part of his intestines.

"It doesn't feel right. It's…squirmy. And bad," she adds and Nick swallows. Adalind looks down at the red welts covering his abdomen. "But it's not working right yet. It still isn't ready."

In case it was meant to be, Nick wants to say that's not a relief. Adalind looks like she agrees.

"What do you mean?" Adalind asks slowly, as though she's not sure she wants to know the answer. Nick's not sure he wants to hear it either.

Diana shrugs again, looking at Kelly when he fusses for a moment. "I don't know," she says, cocking her head, as though listening. "Somethings not right. I felt it earlier. I think it usually works much faster," she says and Nick wonders how she knows this. Is it something she has actual experience with, does she know what attacked him? Did she overhear or learn something, maybe from his mom? Or the wall?

"Nick," Adalind says hollowly, looking down at the bowl in her hand. "If it's poison, I don't think I have anything that is going to counteract this. I really need access to ingredients, and books. We should call Rosalee," she says hesitantly, eyes beseeching his. Nick shakes his head and tries to sit up.

"No."

"Nick! I don't have anything with me that might stop what it's doing, or it's going to do. Rosalee probably has a book and a recipe that can help us figure out what it is, and what hurt you. She'll have the ingredients to make it. This could kill you! This is going to kill you," she corrects, glancing at Diana. She sets the bowl on the bed and starts moving away.

"We're not calling Rosalee. I don't have her number programmed in, anyway."

"Surely, you wrote down their number somewhere, or you have it memorized? I can call information!" She crows, excited, pausing and whirling around as the thought hits her. "And ask for the spice shop in Portland."

"Adalind! No, don't," Nick says again, moving to get up when it looks like she's intent on doing just that. He gasps when his side twinges. "We can't call them, Ren—the police probably have their phones tapped," He corrects when he realizes Diana is watching their exchange closely.

"These are burner phones. You said they can't trace them," Adalind points out.

"I don't want to involve them, Adalind. It's still a risk it can blow our cover. A risk we can't take." She's not listening though, as she summons the phone he gave her, for emergencies only, from the counter with a flick of her hand and flips it open.

"What we can't take is losing you when we could have done something to stop it," she retorts hotly.

"You're not going to lose me."

"You're right about that," she says, putting the phone to her ear after pressing a few buttons and Nick shoves off the bed, wincing painfully as his side seizes, to grab the phone away from her.

"Give me the phone, Adalind," he says warningly, holding out his hand. She eyes it defiantly before turning away and speaking into the phone when information answers.

"Portland, Oregon," she says and her eyes widen when she glances back towards Nick and realizes how close he is. He reaches for the phone and she ducks away from him. He meets her eye for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, like the days of old when they were enemies, except Adalind never looked this worried about him when they were pitted against each other.

"Hang up," he commands, reaching for it again. She yanks it away, behind her, eyes narrowing. "Give me the phone," he says again, trying to reign in his temper, but his side is killing him and this game of keep away they're engaging in is making him annoyed. She puts the phone back up to her ear.

"Exotic Tea and Spices," she says into the speaker, when the operator asks.

"Adalind. Give me the damn phone," he snaps. He's getting pissed, his side blistering, and Adalind must realize it, because she hesitates and that's all he needs to close the distance and snatch it away from her.

"You are _not_ dying on me," she says emotionally, and she looks dejected as her one resource for helping him is taken away.

"No, I'm not," he agrees, and she raises watery eyes to him. "I'll be okay. We can figure this out on our own. Let's try the ridgewort and see what happens."

"I need one of my books," she despairs. "I don't even know where you can find wesen books here. I doubt they're at the library, Nick."

"You'll figure it out," he says confidently. She doesn't look like she shares his opinion, but she nods as she bites her lip, glancing at the phone clutched in his hand and picks up the bowl she brought in.

"You need to lie down," she reminds him, and he's happy to oblige. "I need to fix this and then I'm going into town and see if I can find something that will counteract the poison. Diana," she says to her daughter, "do you have any idea what might have done this to Nick?"

Diana shakes her head regretfully. "No. Something bad."

"Okay," she says with a sigh. "I'm going to put this on you and Diana, you're going to watch Nick and your brother while I see if I can find something to help. And you," she says, turning to Nick, "are going to lay there and not die on me while I'm gone."

%%%%


	22. Part Five - Chapter Two

_Of course_ he finds a wesen not even two weeks on the job.

And it's not like she doesn't know how prevalent wesen are in the world, even probably in someplace as remote as this, but she can't believe they're only two weeks (officially) into this experiment of a new life and already it's like they've never really left their old one. Just with more snow and pine trees.

She doesn't know how this is going to work, if everything they've done to start anew has all been wasted time and energy. She hovers between fear and relief, wondering which she wants more: the idyllic, quiet life she knows is so long a shot as to be impossible; or the end to the charade and the reluctant acceptance of the unpredictable and dangerous one they had before.

She had just started to believe in the lies, is unreasonably angry that she's been duped into believing it might be possible to live happily ever after with Nick and raise their children away from the violence of what's going on in Portland and the demands placed on them with him as a Grimm and detective, and her as the hexenbiest mother of a very important hexenbiest child. The fear of retaliation from Sean, or Black Claw, or whatever else was after them.

It didn't matter if they were, because something else found him, found them, and now she might lose him because…because…

Because they were stupid, she thinks.

They can't pretend they're something they're not.

The sun is hovering just above the ground, ready to slink down below the earth and call upon the night, and Adalind's hit with the fear that even when she makes it to town there might not be anything open. She has no idea where to start looking for a Wesen apothecary in Whitefish, if one even exists, much less a Wesen library, so she figures she'll start with the regular one. Often times, wesen books wind up on Kehrseite shelves with most patrons none the wiser, and she prays fervently that the library will be open.

Her foot pulses the gas pedal, afraid to drive too much over the limit, lest she draw the attention of a sheriff's patrol, and in light of the last sheriff they encountered they don't need any more scrutiny from that direction. But she's terrified if she lingers too long what she might come back to. Nick reluctantly relinquished the cell phone back to her, after she promised him she wouldn't try to contact Rosalee again, and she worries she'll get a call from Diana telling her Nick's taken a turn for the worse before she even makes the city limits. There's no guarantee the library will have what she needs, and even if it did, it's likely to be the first of many stops she'll have to make before she has what she needs to help Nick.

 _If_ she has what she needs.

Her mind flickers to the cellphone in her purse and she debates the wisdom of going against Nick's wishes, and her promise, and calling Rosalee. Can she call Rosalee and get the information she needs without it ever getting back to Nick? Can she put Rosalee in the position of promising to never mention it to Monroe or the others? Is it even possible, with Monroe likely there? Would Rosalee even be able to help her, or would it be beyond what she knows?

She longs to hear her friend's voice, and wonders if Rosalee's been missing Adalind as much as Adalind's been missing her. She glances again at her purse and the cellphone within before looking back at the road.

Can she risk her own relationship with Nick by going back on her word? Can he ever truly trust her if she gives him no reason to? For him to always be wondering when and whether she'll betray him again if she continues to defy him?

She bites her lip to keep it from trembling. She won't betray him, she decides. She can't lose his trust, she can't lose his love.

But if he dies, that's exactly what will happen, and she decides while she's at the library she look up the number for the Spice Shop and program it into her phone, just in case. Just in case she has to cross that line and hope once again that what she's done won't decimate their relationship and that he'll forgive her.

She finds the library open for another two hours when she pulls in and she breathes a sigh of relief that is short-lived, especially if it takes her a while to find what she needs. Just because the library's open for another two hours doesn't mean the next place will be open when she gets done and she still has to find a wesen apothecary and wonders how she can go about asking for one without giving her own wesen nature away. She thinks it'll be impossible. Most wesen are very insular and protective, not to mention suspicious of outsiders, and she doubts she'll learn much without revealing what she is, and she knows how most wesen view hexenbiests, and furthermore that Nick's right, there's the risk that the wesen community, even here, might be looking for someone who matches her description.

"One thing at a time," she breathes, telling herself to calm down and focus on the problem at hand. She needs to find a book, fables, myths, stories, of what she's looking for.

It's like a needle in a haystack, especially when she has no idea how big or small or what color the needle is she's looking for. Trying to match a wesen to the wound is beyond difficult, particularly without something like the Grimm books as a reference.

She stares down at the card file, biting her lip again, trying to figure out where to go from there.

"Can I help you find anything?"

She starts, looking up into the pale green eyes of a young, lanky, bespectacled man, probably in his early twenties, she guesses. She doesn't know how to even start. _I'm looking for the encyclopedia of wesen wounds: slashes, claw marks, and tears._

"Um, I'm not sure," she says stalling and the man adjusts his glasses impatiently. She doesn't have time to waste and she debates on what she should say.

"I'm looking for some information, on the area," she adds, as an idea comes to her. He brightens and waves a hand to her left.

"We've got some excellent periodicals and a couple of travel guides," he offers and she shakes her head. "Are you looking more for the history of Whitefish?"

"Sort of," she says. "What do you have about any myths? Or legends?" she says grinning, hoping that something will land there.

"Like ghost stories?" he asks, scrunching up his face, and she wills her face not to fall in disappointment.

"Yeah, I guess. I love, like, urban legends, and old native American tales, and such. You know, like what kinds of things did people think lived in the forest? What kind of stories do they make up about strange things?"

"Ah," he says knowingly, and her pulse picks up. He smiles. "I think I know what you might be looking for." He motions towards another area, beyond the library desk and she follows quickly, almost stepping on his heels she's so eager with hope that he has what she needs.

 _The Complete Guide to the Flathead Mountains._

She frowns, unable to hide her disappointment, at the thick tome he grabs. He thumbs through it for a moment before flattening the pages (and the spine, she notes critically) and laying it open on the table.

"This is probably what you're looking for?" he asks, pointing at a chapter labeled _Part VI: Strange Tales of Barbarism in the Hills_ and her interest piques suddenly.

"Yeah, I think this might be exactly what I'm looking for," she says, beaming widely, and he ducks his head self-consciously.

"Okay, great, let me know if you need anything else. My name's Liam."

"Thanks, Liam," she says, pulling out a chair. She skims through the information, telling herself not to get too excited. It's wise counsel since it's slow going for most of the chapter. She thumbs through the pages, looking for any descriptions of anything like what's going on with Nick. There's nothing and still nothing after the third chapter in and she starts to feel discouragement creep in. She looks up, squinting at the shelves Liam pulled the book from, scanning over the titles in hopes one will stand out with having the information she may need. She looks back down when she doesn't see one it flips another dozen pages, pausing when she comes across an artist's rendering of a wolf.

 _I was watching something else._

 _What else were you watching?_

 _A wolf._

She flips back a couple of pages, trying to get back in the narrative where the wolf is first mentioned. She finds it after another couple flips of the page and leans forward and begins reading.

 _One of the most interesting legends is that of the Kalispell wolf. The wolf is described as an abnormally large beast, clever and cunning, and ruthless. It was thought by some townspeople that the wolf was the beloved pet of a reclusive mountaineer known only as Mountain Mike. Historical documents note a man by the name of Mike Gillespie, a logger, trapper, and hunter, who lived in a remote area near Big Mountain in the Flathead Mountain range. It was said that Gillespie had once captured the wolf but found it so magnificent a beast that he let it go and the wolf, forever in his debt, became a protector of Gillespie and his domain. The wolf and Gillespie were both fearsome hunters, felling large game, such as bear, elk, and moose. The wolf is also associated with over three dozen attacks on humans, including seven deaths on the outskirts of Kalispell and five near Whitefish. The people of the Flathead mountains demanded the wolf be hunted and put down, and a bounty was set for the person or persons who felled the animal. Gillespie decried the notice, further cementing public perception of his association with the wolf. Public records indicate both Gillespie and the wolf disappeared shortly after the bounty was set, and no further records exist of Gillespie in the area. It is believed he settled in Canada, and popular legend says the wolf followed him across the border._

 _From time to time the wolf is claimed to be spotted wandering the Flathead mountains, still searching for game. Many animal attacks have been mistakenly attributed to it, even to this day._

Adalind pauses, sliding a finger to mark her page, and then uses the other hand to flip to the front. She finds the publication date and frowns. 1968. The wolf described here would be almost 50 years old, at the least.

"Not likely," she murmurs. She flips back, searching through the text for information on when the story of Gillespie first came to light, trying to get a feel for how old he might be, and what she finds leads her to believe he's dead, well over a century old in present day.

If he was human, at least. If he was wesen…

Well, like she'd told Nick once before: some very bad things live a very long time. Still, there was nothing in the text that gave her any idea if Gillespie was wesen and what type he might be.

She closes the book with a sigh, and notes she's spent nearly three quarters of an hour on what turned out to be informative but not with anything that might save Nick's life. She sits back, pondering the information. The wolf, if the description is to be believed, was larger than normal, but she still doesn't think that it was what gave Nick the wounds he has. Besides, the wolf that was described was more than likely dead, though she wonders if some offspring remain.

She gets up, replacing the book and goes in search of the card file for something on a Mike Gillespie. There's nothing, so she turns to the computers, Liam helping her to get situated and logged on. She pulls up the search engine and tries a dozen variations of Gillespie and Flathead mountains before she finally finds a website that she can associate with what she's looking for.

The website isn't overly informative, if not highly inflammatory and subjectively biased against Mike Gillespie. It's written by someone who clearly disapproved of his methodology as a hunter and trapper, and for the first time she gets a clearer picture of what she might be looking for.

A Sammlergiftmicheren.

%%%%%

It's after seven when she leaves the library, politely kicked out by Liam. She's clutching a piece of paper with a few notes jotted down on it—what she can remember of the ingredients needed to make an antidote, but she knows it's not everything and she can't recall the recipe, either. She realizes belatedly that she forgot to look up the number for Rosalee and the spice shop while she was on the computer. She hesitates in front of the car, debating on pulling out the phone and calling information again, but it's after eight in Portland and likely Rosalee was at home with Monroe at this point.

Their home number was no longer listed, but she thinks she can remember most of it, she's just not positive on the order. There was also the option of calling the Portland Police department and asking for Hank or Wu, but again, with it being so late it was likely they'd gone home, too, and she's not sure what Sean has done with them, if they're still even working for Portland police, knowing of their allegiance to Nick.

She has no idea what her friends have been doing these last few months, what life has been like for them. She feels completely out of the loop, and very alone. There's no one she can turn to for help, and she stares down at the paper tucked tightly in her hand, wondering if she can find what she needs in time to save Nick.

She unlocks the door to the Jeep and gets in and thinks about where she needs to go next. She decides to head downtown, look at all the shops and see if one looks like it might be geared towards wesen needs. She wonders if she's wasting her time in Whitefish. It's such a small community. Her thoughts drift to Kalispell and the article she read about the wolf and Gillespie. It's a much larger town and she feels more certainly that what she needs can be found there. It's about a twenty-five-minute drive south from where she is now, and another twenty to get back the cabin and Nick. It would most likely be late in the night before she got back to Nick, and it's too late now for the shops she needs to be open.

She realizes she's going to have to go home empty-handed, tend to Nick and hope he remains stable enough through the night that she can leave early tomorrow morning and arrive in Kalispell when the shops open. She's asking that Nick stay alive long enough for her to procure the antidote, or the ingredients to make it, and given what she thinks it is that attacked him, it's asking a lot.

She's risking a lot.

She ponders going to Kalispell tonight and breaking in. She wishes she had her bone keys, those were always handy when she needed to get in and out somewhere unseen, but, like everything else, they're in a box somewhere in Portland, either at the spice shop, or packed away with some of her things that never made the move to the loft.

She looks down again at her purse, and fishes for the phone inside. It can't hurt to try some of the combinations and see if she can reach Rosalee, she thinks. She runs her thumb over the phone, debating, knowing she's going against Nick's wishes, her promise, if she does.

She flips it open and dials.

"Hi honey," she says when Diana picks up. There's a lot of static on the line and she can't hear most of what Diana says in reply. Phone service to the cabin is terrible, and she and Nick usually don't bother to call each other for that reason.

"I'm just checking to see how Nick's doing," she says, deciding that Diana's answer will be her permission or not to break her promise. If he's taken a turn for the worse she can't risk his life, her child's father, over his stubborn pride.

"—kay," Diana says, or she think she says. Some of her answer cut out, and she wonders if Nick's doing okay, or if Diana was just acknowledging her comment.

"What's he doing?"

"—ping," she hears.

"Sleeping?" she presses. Or passed out again?

"—ping," Diana returns, and she assumes it was the former. "He's – with – ther—house."

"What?" she says helplessly. "Diana you're cutting out? Is Nick okay? Has he gotten worse?"

"No," she hears definitively, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

"Okay. That's good. That's good," she says, closing her eyes.

"Did you – the – son?"

She has no idea what Diana just said, but she reasons she was asking if she found what she's looking for.

"I think I know what Nick needs, but I can't get it until tomorrow morning. I'll see you in a little bit, okay. I'm going to head back now and I should be home in a half-hour or so. How's Kelly?"

"O—" she hears, and she suppresses a sigh of frustration.

"Make sure you put him down for the night, and call me if anything changes with Nick. I'll see you soon."

"Okay—my," she hears and she hangs up.

She flips the phone closed and looks at it for a moment, still debating, before she puts it away. She starts the Jeep and pulls out of the parking lot, pointing the car towards home. She misses the turn, twice, before she finds the path that leads to their cabin in the woods, and it's slippery where her tracks from earlier have frozen over. She glances at the dark woods around her, remembering the tale of the wolf and Gillespie and mulls what might wander the woods while they're sleeping.

She's heard some it, coyote, wolves perhaps, deer and elk. She and Diana were surprised one day on a hike around the property to encounter a startled doe. She wonders if there are more like Gillespie that wander the area. Sammlergiftmicheren are fairly rare, especially here in the states, but it's not the only wesen that combs wooded areas.

It's quiet when she enters the house. Diana's sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, blanket wrapped around her.

"Hey, how's he doing?" she asks, setting her coat and purse down.

Diana shrugs. "He's still sleeping, and mumbling a lot."

Adalind makes her way to Nick to check. He's sweaty, and his face is dotted by two abnormally rosy cheeks. He murmurs something unintelligible when Adalind runs her hand over his cheek and forehead but doesn't wake.

He dreams a lot, a consequence of a Grimm she doesn't know, but she's been awoken a few times by his thrashing around or sudden shout. Most are violent, so she thinks it due to being a Grimm than anything else, though she has no idea if Nick has been afflicted with bad dreams all his life.

She pulls back the covers and checks the wound, noting the ridgewort soaked bandage is due for a change. She peels it back, making sure she doesn't startle Nick awake. It doesn't look any better, she thinks, but it doesn't appear to be any worse, but that doesn't soothe her nerves. She doesn't understand Grimm physiology, only that toxins or things he's exposed to don't have the same effect on him that they do on wesen.

The Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester curse is a prime example, since for some reason he was still feeling (and therefore her) the effects of it weeks after she used it on him. She doesn't know why they were able to see out of each other's eyes, or why he (she) had such splitting headaches. It was the weird way his body try to metabolize the foreign potion. The poison is no different, but she's not sure how it's going to present with him and that worries her. Will it be better or worse? Somehow, she feels like it will be worse, since her limited knowledge of how his body has interacted with things seems to indicate the worst-case scenario.

"Here, take this and bring me some fresh water and some more ridgewort." Diana takes the bowl Adalind proffers and shuffles off to the kitchen. Adalind leans over Nick and whispers loudly.

"Nick? Nick? I think I figured out what it is," she tells him but his only response can charitably be characterized as a disoriented grunt.

Diana returns with the bowl and Adalind takes it from her and prepares another batch of the ridgewort to soak his bandages in. She redresses the wound without him ever waking up, just Nick locked away in his restless sleep. Diana watches her mother tend to Nick.

"Did Kelly give you any trouble getting to sleep?" she asks her daughter, needing to fill the silence.

"No, he was good," she says.

"Did Nick give you any trouble?" she asks with a small grin, trying for levity.

"No, he said if he got really bad for me not to worry and call you. I just needed to get him the box from under the house."

Adalind pauses abruptly and looks at her daughter.

"What box under the house?" she asks sharply. A box? There's a box under the house? Did he find it, or did he put it there? And when did he put it there?

Diana shrugs. "I don't know. He said I shouldn't touch it, just bring it to him and he'd be okay."

Adalind forces herself to grab another strip, soak it in the mixture, and apply it to his wound. She does this two more times methodically before she speaks again.

"Did he say what was in the box?"

Diana shakes her head.

"No, just that I wasn't supposed to touch what was inside and no one is supposed to know about it."

She wonders if Nick was considering her a part of that group. Since this is the first she's hearing of it, she thinks so, and she looks at him, wondering why she's not supposed to know about this box and what's inside it.

She looks down, feeling guilt and remorse, because despite what he may have said about Bonaparte, he doesn't trust her.

And there's anger, she realizes, slow-burning and deep-seated, but it there, too. She's been sincere about making their relationship work, about righting the wrongs they've done to each other, and moving forward. Making the effort to build a good foundation to something that was so messed up to start with. She thought he was, too, but Nick's always been a bit more hesitant than she and now she sees why. He can't let go of their past, not completely, and the thing with Bonaparte and revealing the location of the loft, just added to it.

"The box is under the house?"

Diana nods. "He said not to get it unless it got really bad."

How much worse can it get, she thinks.

She spent the evening searching for something that might fix him, and now she wonders what it is that he has under the house. Something to finish himself off? Something for her in case something happened to him? One of his Grimm books? A suitcase of samples from the spice shop, but surely he would admit that, and she was there, the whole time they were fleeing Portland, trapped in that fucking SUV for days and days, and there was nothing like that in there. There was no box. They had the clothes on their backs and not much else.

Now she's curious: what does he have hidden under there?

"Here," she says to Diana, finishing up with Nick. "Why don't you take the sleeping bag upstairs and I'll stay with Nick."

"Okay." She helps Diana get settled in the bag, making sure she's tucked in and warm enough.

"This is hard," Diana comments, as she settles onto the floor.

"I know, but it's just for one night. Nick's too sick to move him. You'll be fine. Just pretend we're having a camping trip."

They've been pretending that for months now. She turns off the light and heads back down the stairs, cleaning up a bit around the house. She checks on Kelly, recovering him with a light blanket, and then checks again on Nick.

The ridgewort doesn't appear to be as effective as before, but she's not sure if it's because of the poison or Nick's strange physiology. She sits back on the bed and frowns as she looks at him. He's still out of it. She nudges him, gently at first, then hard. Nothing.

"What are you hiding from me?" she murmurs, studying him. She spies the window behind him, noting the darkened sky through the thin piece of cloth masquerading as a curtain. She's tempted to give into the impulse to grab a flashlight and go under the house to look. It's late, and she'd be better off going under there when it's light out, she knows, but now she's burning with curiosity.

She thinks back to when she first met him, when he first was grappling with the knowledge he was a Grimm. How he hid it, with the exception of Monroe, from everyone he knew in the beginning. He's very good at lying to people, she thinks, and she wonders how long he's been lying to her.

Why didn't he mention a box to her, or that he hid something under the house?

Did he find something here and didn't want to worry her? She wants to believe he was just being overprotective, and he's very good at that, too. In fact, it's likely he hid something under the house in the unfortunate case that something happened to him and didn't say anything to her about it, knowing she wouldn't want to hear about or consider such things. He takes good care of his family, and he always seems to include her in that, she reminds herself.

Ten minutes later, she's wrapped in her coat, clutching a flashlight while her boots crunch through the snow as she makes her way around to the back of the cabin. There's an entry to the crawlspace next to a pile of debris that's been there since they moved in, and she toes some of it aside and bends down to remove the panel.

The wind rustles the trees behind her, and she absently listens for any noise, or signs of threat, but her attention is mostly focused on the getting the panel removed so she can peer down inside. Her fingers are cold and slow to respond but she finally twists the two large screws holding it against the house when she uses her powers to do so and a second later she's pulling the panel away. She gets down on her knees and elbows, pointing the flashlight into the darkness underneath.

A pair of eyes glimmer back in the faint light and she jumps and woges, hissing loudly at whatever it is and it scampers away through a hole in the side of the foundation. A possum, she thinks.

She waves the beam of light around, trying to make out anything else of interest before she spies something to the side. She sighs, realizing she's going to have to squeeze herself through the crawl space opening to investigate further. She sets the flashlight down to the side of her, and maneuvers herself through and grabs it again. She moves around carefully; clearly whatever she scared out of here has made a home and invited all his friends, too, judging by the smell.

"Ugh," she says, holding her breath, and she spots a painted army green metal box, slightly rusted and caked with dust and mud. It looks like an old ammo box, and she wonders if it was part of some of the trash they found scattered around the cabin when they first came here. She crawls toward it, trying not to whine aloud as her hands brush through some highly questionable material.

She grabs the box. It's thick, heavy, metal but whatever's in it is light and thunks around noisily. She sets the flashlight down again and works the latch. She opens and grabs the flashlight to cast some light on the item.

She stares blankly at it for a moment.

It appears to be a stick, partly wrapped in a tattered old cloth. She squints in the dim light, trying to make sure of what she's seeing.

Yup, it's a stick.

She stares, flummoxed, wondering what the hell he was on about when he hid a stick under here and told Diana about it.

Was he delirious with fever? Or does he think whatever attacked him is going to turn him into a vampire? Surely, he knows those are all extinct now.

She stares a few seconds longer and _thunks_ the lid closed with a sigh. She debates on putting it back where she found it, or taking it with her and confronting Nick about it. She opens it again and looks at it.

It's still a stick.

Why the hell would he wrap a stick in a cloth and hide it under here like it was important?

It can't be just a stick, she reasons.

She moves her fingers over the cloth and a strange tingling reverberates up her arm and she drops the box in surprise.

 _Not_ just a stick.

The stick is partly exposed now, lying in the dirt, and she shines the flashlight over it. It looks like a very large splinter, or toothpick, about eight inches long. She hovers her hand over it again and feels power radiate from it.

Now she knows why he told Diana not to touch it. What the hell would it do to him if he touches it?

She carefully nudges it with the end of the flashlight back into the box and closes the lid, making sure to securely latch it shut. She crawls on her hands and knees back to the opening and sets the box on the ground outside, and then the flashlight and pulls herself back up, breathing heavily for a moment, as she wriggles back through the opening.

"What are you doing, mommy?"

"Ahh!" she cries out in surprise, not expecting anyone to be there. "Diana! What are you doing out of bed?"

"I couldn't sleep and I heard something. What are you doing? Is Nick worse?" she asks worriedly, spotting the box.

"No—I-this is just in case anything happens," she says, not sure how to explain it. "I just want to be prepared. Come on, honey, it's cold and you should be back in bed."

Diana's dressed in her pajamas and her coat, and she walks beside Adalind as they both crunch through the snow back to the porch. Adalind tucks the box under her arm and guides her daughter to the cabin. An owl screeches through the night, breaking the silence and for the first time Adalind registers how quiet it is. It's eerie. She's not sure if it's the stick that has her spooked or something else. They trample into the house, Adalind checking on Nick and Kelly, noting they've both slept through the excitement. She re-situates Diana back upstairs, and takes a few moments to get a fire going and clean up. She takes a seat on the floor next to the fireplace, and pulls a blanket around her and tries to warm up.

She looks up on the mantle, where she placed the box, and then towards Diana's room where Nick lies in a deep sleep. In a moment, she'll probably get up to join him. It's too cold to lie on the floor with just the blanket, and she's still worried his condition will take a turn for the worse in the night, and she needs to be there next to him in case something happens.

Though if something does, she's powerless to stop it without anything in the way of an antidote. Her eyes flick back to the box and she wonders just how and what Nick planned to use it for if something did happen? What does it do? Where did he find it? When did he hide it under the house?

She wants to wake him. Demand answers. She's not going to be able to sleep tonight, not with worrying about him and now wondering about this.

Wondering what it means for their relationship that he never said anything about it.

%%%%%


	23. Part Five - Chapter Three

AN: Thanks to everyone who's still sticking with this story. It means a lot.

%%%%

He comes to, warmth on one side of his body and a pain so intense on the other it feels like ice, like frozen stalactites stabbing him in his side. He glances down and finds Adalind pressed against his left side, the side that's comfortably warm. She's facing him, one hand tucked under her pillow, and the other under her chin. He glances around in confusion, not recognizing the room they're in before he realizes he's asleep in Diana's bed, with Adalind beside him, and he wonders where her daughter is if they're here.

He tries not to move too much and jostle Adalind, and worse, jostle is his side. He doesn't remember when she came to bed, and he has no idea when she got back from town. The last he remembered it was dark and she still wasn't home, and it's dark still now.

He slides agonizingly out of bed, trying to mute the gasps of pain that want to escape. He manages to free himself from the bed without waking her and he hobbles out of the room to tend to nature. He notes with surprise a fire slowly burning out in the fireplace so he reasons she hasn't been home long before joining him.

He makes his way to the bathroom and relieves himself, taking a moment to peer down at the wound. Some of the welts are weeping, a whitish looking pus. He touches another welt and the pressure from his finger breaks it open. It doesn't ease the pain any, and it looks faintly disturbing and gross. He balls up a wad of toilet paper and wraps an arm around himself, covering the wound, in a futile effort to alleviate the discomfort. He makes his way back to the bedroom, cocking an ear and listening to the sounds above him. He makes out the steady breaths of Diana above, asleep in the loft, and continues on, glancing again at the fireplace before he halts suddenly.

He stays still, his senses coming to life, as he wonders what has him on alert. He listens again, tilting his head, and can hear some wildlife in the hills beyond them, but nothing that should sound an alarm. He moves slowly, studying the room, pacing in front of the fireplace, eyes roaming the stone structure when he spots it.

The box!

He hustles as fast as his side will let him to the mantle. The box, the ammo box, is sitting on it, and he grabs it and peers inside.

He slips a hand in and bats the cloth around, searching, but comes up empty.

 _Shit!_ Where the hell is the stick? And why is the box out?

He has a vague memory of telling Diana about it, that if he took a turn for the worse, he wanted her to go under the house and bring it to him, but he also specifically told her not to touch it.

Which he should have expected, with her as a child, that it would be the first thing she'd probably do.

He looks up at the loft, and listens again. He climbs painfully up the stairs, hustling as fast as his side will let him, and searches the loft carefully, but there's not many places to hide it with only a sleeping bag on the floor and a few small effects. The steady evidence of her sleeping deeply is all that he hears when he looks at Diana, and he looks back down at the empty box still clutched in one hand, before he glances down toward the bedroom. The stick is gone, and there's only a small handful of possibilities as to what might have happened to it, and if Diana doesn't have it than that leaves one other person who might.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

 _Shit!_ He thinks, realizing that if Adalind touched it, she might not be sleeping, but hurt, it might have done something to her like it did Eve, and he hustles down the steps, gasping with pain, and into the bedroom coming up short again when he discovers Adalind sitting up waiting for him.

"Looking for this?"

She holds up the stick, the hand holding it covered in an oven mitt. He stares at it, then her, and she meets his gaze challengingly.

She looks pissed.

And hurt.

"How did you find it?" he asks, and he can tell as soon as he says it that it's the wrong thing to say.

"Diana told me about it," she replies. "The question is, why didn't _you_ tell me about it?"

 _Shit._

"I meant to," he says, trying to ignore the prickling sensation in his side as he faces off with her. He sets the box down and wraps an arm around his side. She raises an eyebrow. "Just…hadn't gotten around to it with everything else going on," he finishes lamely.

"Were you planning on getting around to it?" she asks him bitingly.

"Yes," he says. "It's just a lot to explain, and I don't know much about it."

"So start. What do you mean? Where did you find this?" She looks at it, clutched in her mitt.

"The Black Forest," Nick answers, and she flashes surprised blue eyes to his.

"This came from the Black Forest?" she asks, examining it carefully, and it's all Nick can do not to snatch it out of her hands, and tuck it back into the box where it's safe. "You didn't find it here?"

"No," Nick answers, and her eyes meet his again for a moment before she looks away, her expression affecting a strange look before she masks it.

"You've had this since you came back from Germany?"

"Yeah, Monroe and I, we found it in the knight's tomb in a church buried in the black forest."

"I thought you told me you didn't find anything when you went to Germany."

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit._

"Adalind," he says, realizing why she feels betrayed. She thinks he didn't trust her. And the truth is worse, because the truth was, the reason why he didn't tell her when he got back from Germany, is that some part of him-a large part of him-didn't.

So much had happened in such a short space of time, and he had been scrambling to determine what his own feelings were.

They had made love, both parties involved willingly and knowingly, for the first time together just prior to his leaving the country. He'd been ready, he thought, to take that step. Certainly hadn't refused it when it was clear what she was offering. The tension had been building between them for a while then, and not abated by the kiss in the loft, nor the appearance of Eve in his life. But he realized after it happened he might have been hasty, because he was abruptly confronted with his own confused feelings towards the woman he'd so long looked upon as an enemy. What it might mean that after everything she'd done, that he should be falling for her. He had definitely developed intense feelings for the woman who took such good care of his son, a woman who was sweet, and smart, and funny, but he was also forced to consider what would she be like when the suppressant wore off, and he was confronted with the hexenbiest again? Would she still be that some person he'd started to admire, and yes, grown to love?

He'd tried to talk about it with Monroe, but that had served only to make him more unsure of whether pursuing a relationship with her was wise. He'd chosen to back off a bit, deciding to play things close to the vest for the time being, and given the amount of people who'd been searching for the keys, and what they opened, it seemed wise at the time to limit the knowledge of the stick to as few people as possible. He didn't know what it was, what it could do, and why the knights had decided it was better off buried.

When he'd discovered that Adalind had regained her powers and hadn't (yet) told him, the decision not to share on the stick seemed especially prudent. He didn't understand her hesitancy to be upfront about what was going on with her, her fear that he would see her only as he had for so long-an enemy, a dangerous thing, and hurt her, the mother of his child, or cast her off.

He understands it better now. He can see how their history taints much of their future. His decision not to tell her about the stick is no different.

"It's okay," she says, looking away, down at the stick in her hand. "I know why you didn't tell me."

"Adalind, it's not like that," he says. "Not anymore," he amends at her angry, insulted look. "It's not because I don't trust you anymore, it's because I don't know what that is, or what it does, and there are a lot of the wrong people looking for it."

"You know a little about it if you're hiding it from everyone."

"Not really," he says. "Here, give it to me. It's not something you should handle," he says, holding out his hand for it. She glances up from the stick in her hand to Nick's outstretched palm.

"It's something you can handle," she says and he furrows a brow in question, not sure what she's getting at. "You can touch it," she notes his bare hand. "What happens if I touch it?"

"I'm not sure," he says, trying to quell the impulse to lean forward and snatch it out of her hand.

"You have an idea it will do something. You told Diana not to touch it. I can sense something with it. What is it you think it does? Do you know what it does?"

Nick sighs, lowering his palm slightly, but not completely.

"I know it reacts to hexenbiests, but I'm not sure what it does or why. I told you, I don't know that much about it."

"What hexenbiests have you used it on?" she asks, glancing up at the loft beyond them nervously.

"Eve," he says in a clipped tone.

"Eve? Why would you use it on Eve?" she asks surprised, eyes glancing up at him bewilderingly.

"She was injured," he says. She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. "The stick, we found out, has healing abilities. I used it on her when Bonaparte impaled her with a shard of glass. It healed the wound, but it did something to the hexenbiest." He hesitates again, remembering. "She woged and had, like, a seizure. When she finally came to a while later, I could sense something was different. She could tell something was different. It was like…like Juliette was back again."

Adalind's brows rise sharply in surprise and she looks at the stick, contemplating it carefully.

"It destroys the hexenbiest?"

"I don't know. I don't know if it did. There was a lot going on at the time; I didn't really get the chance to hang around and find out what the long term effects of all it did, but she wasn't the same Eve we'd all grown to know and love," he says drily.

"It has healing properties?"

"Yeah, we accidentally found that out. Monroe and I encountered some wesen near the church after we found the stick. He was bitten before we could get away. By the time we got back home, the wound was pretty bad, and he was pretty sick. He collapsed in the spice shop, and while I was trying to help him, I accidentally touched his arm with the stick, and it healed it." They're both silent, each staring at the stick, before Nick looks at her and takes a deep breath and continues.

"And then in the loft, after you'd warned me about what you'd told Bonaparte, I had it on me," her brow crinkles, a wave of emotion sweeping across her face. "Your warning helped me get prepared. I made sure I had the stick safe and hidden on me, in case they breached the tunnels and found it, and I'm pretty sure it saved my life a couple of times that night."

"You had it in the loft?"

"Yeah, I hid it in the tunnels," he admits. She nods, trying to act like she's not bothered by the fact it was hidden right under her nose. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it before. I thought it was the best thing to do with everything we knew about it."

"And what you knew again about me, right? Newly re-hexenbiested and untrustworthy. Monroe knows about it? Who else?"

Shit. That answer isn't going to make her feel any better and she looks piercingly at him and nods.

"Adalind," he says and she shakes her head.

"No, you're right. I didn't trust you when I found out my powers were back. I thought you might do something to me, if you knew what I was again. Get rid of me, and take Kelly, or get rid of both of us. Seems silly now," she says quietly. "Or so I thought."

"I told you, I would never hurt you."

"I didn't trust you and you don't trust me. What a pair we are. It's a wonder we made it this far, isn't it, together?"

"Adalind, I trust you," he says.

"Do you?" she replies. "I'm beginning to think your trust only goes so far."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it sooner. I didn't know how to explain it, and I didn't want you to be at risk for knowing about."

"I'm sure," she says and he frowns. "I understand your decision," she says quietly with another sigh, "especially after Bonaparte, you were right, weren't you? I think that's what hurts the most," she says in the same tone. "I can't even blame you."

"Adalind," he says desperately. "I meant what I said, I know you had no choice. You think I wanted you to let him choke you to death, to prove your loyalty to me, rather than give him an answer? Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this, but I wanted to make sure you were safe, that Kelly was safe, and given that it had been hidden for centuries by the seven Grimm knights, it seemed best if you didn't know."

"I'm sure it did," she agrees, sucking in a breath slowly. "You said this saved your life?" she asks, waving the stick. "Were you hurt?" she queries tremulously. "Badly?"

He nods slowly, realizing this conversation was going from bad to worse, but that he couldn't afford to sugarcoat it or keep the truth from her.

"Took a couple of shots in the back. And the chest," he adds uncomfortably.

"Shots? As in gunshots?" she asks sharply.

"Yeah, point blank. Pretty sure both times were fatal wounds, but I was able to get back up and keep fighting. It was how I was still alive when Bonaparte and Renard came to the loft."

He wonders if Bonaparte would have been able to kill him with the stick still hidden on him.

She shoots a worried look at him, as she gapes at his chest, looking for evidence of what happened to him, scars from the healed wounds, but if there had been anything to alarm her she would have seen and commented on it before this. Still, his flip response seems to unsettle her, the knowledge that he wouldn't be here with her had it not been for the powerful artifact she's holding. She looks again at the stick and then juts it out towards him, as though scared to hold onto it any longer.

He takes it, feeling the power it contains buzzing up his arm. He feels…complete…with it in his hand. Like it belongs with him, to him. Like it's an extension of him.

"You think it will work then on your wound," she says, nodding to his side, and Nick nods. "I spent the night at the library, researching everything I knew, which wasn't much, to find out what may have attacked you."

"Did you figure something out?"

"I think so," she says with another nod, "but then it was too late to get any of the ingredients I needed to make an antidote. I was going to go this morning to Kalispell and see if I could find what I needed."

"What was it?"

She pulls her attention from the stick she's been eyeing warily and shakes her head as she looks at him. "What?"

"What was it that attacked me?"

She huffs a tired breath. "Sammlergiftmicheren," she says. "I think."

"I'm not sure if I've ever heard of one of those."

"Probably not. They're not really all that common, but really, it was just an educated guess. I didn't have much to go on. This should fix you even if I'm wrong, right?"

He doesn't think she's wrong. She's incredibly smart, and very knowledgeable about the many different types of wesen, although, that's largely because she's spent her whole life in the wesen world, and not just the past six years like Nick. He looks at her, noting how tired she looks. How worried she was about him and he feels like an ass.

"I should be fine," he agrees, and silently hopes he's not overstating or overestimating the stick's capabilities. She dips her head towards at the stick.

"Well, let's be sure."

He realizes she's waiting for him to use it, likely wanting to witness its power first hand, and he pulls his arm away from his side and gingerly places the tip of the stick against, then presses it more solidly against the wound. He gasps as he feels something burn, and he and Adalind both stare down at his side in amazement as it heals and closes up, leaving only pale, pink, unaffected skin. The icy burning is immediately abated and he feels like he can breathe again.

He glances up at Adalind and she raises stunned eyes to him.

"Wow," she says.

%%%%%

"We need to find out more about that stick," she says over breakfast. Kelly's up, too, though Diana's still slumbering above. He imagines the scent of food will roust her shortly.

"No kidding. We've been trying to find anything out for a while," Nick returns. They're seated on the floor, of course, their breakfast table until they actually get a real one and at this point Nick will settle for a card table, but then he probably couldn't afford the chairs to sit on.

"Do you have a list of what you're going to get when I get paid?"

"Are you kidding me? I've got your next six paychecks spent."

"I hope a table is at the top of it. Maybe some chairs to go with it."

"First thing we're getting is a bed for you and I," Adalind replies. "I can't sleep on the floor one more night. I don't know how you did for so long."

He wants to argue that he's fine, and that she needs to get things for the house and the kids, but he can't summon the words, and instead just nods.

"Groceries," she adds. "We really don't have anything in the way of supplies if we're snowed in. I can make up some food and freeze it. Some clothes, and diapers, though I think it might be easier—definitely cheaper—if we use cloth."

"It would be cheaper if we potty-trained him," Nick points out.

"He's still too little for that, aren't you Kel?" she coos, eliciting a smile from his son when Kelly looks at his mother.

"He's not so little anymore," Nick says, also looking at him. "He's crawling everywhere, and pulling himself up onto things. He'll be walking soon."

Adalind takes a bite of eggs and nods. "Then I'll be running after him. He can be such a handful. He's getting into everything now that he can explore and move around on his own. He inherited your insatiable curiosity, I think."

"He's got your belligerent streak," Nick returns and she fixes him with a stern look.

"He's talking more," she says, ignoring the comment. "The other day I heard him say 'juice' and dee, for Diana, I think, and mama," she pronounces proudly, smiling again at Kelly and Kelly stares at her for a moment and then grins and looks down at his toy.

"How about showing some love for the man who bravely changes your diapers every morning, despite knowing what horrors might lie within them, Kelly? Dada, say dada," he encourages, and Kelly looks at him blankly. Adalind bites down a smile. "You're sure he's mine?" Nick asks her and she flashes a dirty look at him.

"What? I'm just saying a child with my genes would show a little more respect."

"He looks like a mini you," she points out. "How can you even doubt it? People on the street have no doubt he's your son when they see you together."

"Dada, Kelly," Nick coaxes. "Da-da."

"Diana didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I guess you passed out before she could," Adalind says, taking another bite of eggs. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything, she wanted to tell you. I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"She mentioned something about a surprise, and that you thought I'd like it," Nick recalls. "Am I going to like it?"

Adalind shrugs, but her smile widens a bit.

"What?"

She shrugs again. "She was pretty adamant I not say anything first, so I think it's wise to abide by her wishes."

Her comment about not upsetting Diana has him mulling over a few things, not the least of which is Diana's moods and what they can hearken.

Nick forks some eggs into his own mouth and chews thoughtfully for a moment.

"I was thinking of the stick, we could try it on your ring, see if it breaks the spell," Nick says as Adalind reaches for her glass. She glances at the ring in question, looking worriedly back at Nick.

"What if it doesn't? After what happened the last time Nick? What if it does something, something worse? We're talking about your son. My daughter. I know you don't like the ring, but I'm willing to live with it if it means my children are healthy and safe."

"I can't stand the thing," Nick retorts and she meets his eyes in surprise.

"You willing to risk your children over your dislike?"

He says nothing for a moment, conceding the silliness of risking their children's health and safety over his jealousy of a ring placed there while she was forced to live another lie with another man under maybe not so different circumstances, he thinks.

"I was thinking about the stick, too, for maybe Diana," he ventures hesitantly. "If we can't control her…tendencies." Adalind stiffens, hand tightening around the glass she has yet to pick up.

"What do you mean? You want to use that thing on my daughter?" her voice rises, before she glances overhead and quiets. "You just told me not thirty minutes ago that you have no idea what it does and that it did something to Eve!" she hisses.

He glances up at her, and then overhead as well. The loft is directly above them, but Nick can still detect Diana's deep even breaths. It's early, not much past six. Diana, Nick has discovered, is a deep sleeper and a late riser, but it's not a conversation they should probably be having with her so near.

"I'm just saying, it's an option if all other ones fail," he says, looking pointedly at her. "It might be able to lessen the extent of her powers to something we can all handle."

"Or take them away completely, or kill her!"

"I don't think it will kill her. It didn't kill Eve."

"Oh, that's a relief," Adalind retorts.

"Even if did take them away, would it be the worst thing for her? Maybe she'll have the chance for a normal life. Maybe she'll stop aging so quickly and get to be a little a girl for a while," Nick says. Adalind looks up, a hint of guilt on her face. He suspects he's not the only one to lament her rapid aging and the life she's missing out on being everyone's number one weapon in a fight for power. "If she keeps on her current pace, she's likely to be an adult in another couple of years at most. We're going to really have problems if she can't control her impulses and we can't control her because she's grown and out of the house, so to speak."

Adalind says nothing, looking down at her plate.

"You saw how she was with that kid at the arcade. She's missing out on a lot. She could have friends, and play dates, and think about things most kids do. Maybe the royals and everyone else wouldn't be interested in her if she's not a pawn that can be used in somebody's power play. She can be a kid, Adalind."

"We don't know what that thing does. I don't want to use something I don't know anything about on my child. Would you be so quick to use it on Kelly if the same situation was with him?"

"You think because Diana's not mine I don't care about using something on her that frankly scares the hell out of me? I'm not saying we should subject Diana to it without knowing for sure what it could do, but I am saying it might be a resource if all other resources fail. Her abilities…her uncontrollable nature, Adalind, _those_ scare the hell out of me. We've already hid one body. Who knows how they played off the other two in Portland, or even if they did. They're probably two more things Renard's added to my rap sheet. I want to live my life in peace, Adalind, as much as we can carve out. I want you, and my children to be safe. I want them to grow up secure. I want to be able to love them and raise them in an environment without subjecting them to the craziness of some wesen revolution. I want to be able to love you and to live my life with you and enjoy what we have." Her beautiful blue eyes flick up to his, and he holds her gaze for a moment. It's easy to get lost in them, such an outstanding shade of topaz. The look of love in her eyes when she gazes upon him that always mesmerizes him.

"You were right," he says roughly. "The world was never going to leave us alone long enough for us to figure _us_ out. We were just starting to get it when Black Claw and Bonaparte came between us. I'm not going to lose you, or my family, to this life like my mom lost hers. I'm so tired of losing things. The people I love," he says bitterly. "I'm so tired of having to choose everyone else over my own happiness. You and Kelly mean everything to me. Diana, too. It was time to do what was right for you guys. And I'm selfish, I can admit it. I wanted to do what was right for me, too. I wanted to be with you. I didn't want to have to make the choice my mother did and say goodbye, or let you get stuck living some lie with Renard.

"I made a different choice," he says, looking into Adalind's eyes. "My mother told me not to leave the people I love, I can't think of anyone I love more than you and Kelly. If I was leaving, I wanted you to come with me."

"Nick—"

"And I don't regret having Diana with me, either, in case you were wondering. I know our situation's not perfect," he adds, waving a hand around to indicate the cabin, the woods, the life on the run, and the assumed identities, "but I'm fully committed to making this work. Making _us_ work. I won't do anything without your permission, I promise," he says, referring to Diana. "We need to find out more about the stick, I agree. I just have no idea where to even start."

He looks down after a moment, giving Adalind a minute, and needing one himself. It's more than he's ever said about his feelings for her, and it seems like such a huge…weight off. He's kept his feelings under wraps for a long time, so much so that he'd been taken by surprise at the depth of anger and shock he felt at knowing that Renard and Black Claw manipulated Adalind away from him. The profound sense of loss and emptiness in the loft he felt without her. The realization that he loved her, and that he might not get to see her again, see his son again. Something that weighed heavily on him when he was arrested and thrown in jail.

Knowing she loved him and him not knowing if she knew and understood how much he had fallen in love with her.

"Nick—I—" she says, fumbling.

"You don't have to say anything," he says, glancing up at her. "You've been the one to say it, to tell me how you felt, to put yourself out there when I wasn't sure what I was feeling or brave enough to say it back."

She bites her lip, trying to prevent it from trembling, as a tear slips past her defenses.

"I'm saying it back," he says. "I love you, too. And I _do_ trust you," he adds. "With my life, and my love, and my children."

Another tear leaks out, and she brushes it aside, before more follow.

"Okay, you can say something, because now I'm getting kind of worried," he admits.

She huffs a laugh, putting him a bit more at ease before she shoves her plate aside and crawls over to him. She reaches for him and he pushes his own meal aside and pulls her to him, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He buries his nose in her hair, missing the scent of the shampoo she used when they lived at the loft. He breathes deep, before pressing a kiss to her neck and then shoulder.

She pulls back and finds his mouth, and Nick loses himself in her, deepening the kiss. He leans forward slowly, shifting her weight in his arms so he can lay her back on the floor, moving his body over hers, mouth feverish for more of her. She runs her fingers along his beard, breaking for air, smiling gently at him before he captures her mouth again, fingers sliding through her hair. He breaks away, mouth trailing over her jaw to her neck again, then her collarbone, when he registers a gurgling noise beside him.

Kelly.

Right. Dammit.

He looks at his son to find Kelly staring back at them interestedly. He looks down at Adalind underneath him and utters a silent curse.

"Kelly," he says and she nods in understanding, unable to mask her own disappointment mingled with joy. Her hair is fanned out around her and she looks particularly inviting laid out on the floor like that. Nick looks back at his son.

"Shouldn't he be about ready for a nap right now?" he asks as Adalind shakes her head and Kelly smiles slyly and gnaws on his toy.

"He just woke up thirty minutes ago."

"I think he's tired," Nick tries.

"He doesn't look it to me."

He's hoping he can scoop Kelly up and put him in his crib and then hopes to god Diana doesn't wake next. He's had one night with Adalind in all the time since they've left Portland, and a mere handful of times before that. He's due for some one-on-one time with the woman he just professed his love to. And now he has two kids and alone time is at a premium, much less privacy. One night in a cramped sleeping bag, and he can do so much more if he has the room to work, and he's minus the audience.

Kelly chews the ear on his Fuchsbau as he watches Nick.

"Here, daddy will put you down for your nap, does that sound good?" He says to Kelly.

"No," Adalind answers for Kelly. "He's going to start crying the minute you set him down in the crib."

"He's going to be a good boy and take a nice long nap and let da-da spend some time with mama, right?"

Kelly smiles, though Nick doesn't think it's one of agreement.

"Just where do you intend on spending it with me?"

"Here's fine," Nick says.

"We can't do that here," Adalind whispers loudly. Well, he didn't think Adalind would be on board with doing it in the only bed they have available. And the loft was occupied currently.

"Where else is there?" Nick returns. "We could try the bathroom, I guess," he says, considering. A little precarious, but he's sure he can manage. They'd almost had a nice interlude in the bathroom at the loft one morning before Hank had called with a triple homicide.

More proof the universe owes him.

Or hates him, he's not sure.

"Just let me get Kelly down and then I'll take care of you," he promises. "Right, Kelly?"

Kelly babbles around the toy he's chewing, most of it incoherent nonsense with one exception.

"Da-da," Kelly says.


	24. Part Five - Chapter Four

Apparently, all it takes to be forgiven and forgotten for cockblocking your father is to finally recognize who he is. Though, she's not actually sure Kelly's made that connection, just that Diana had tried for so long and for so hard yesterday that he mimics the word frequently enough now that everyone assumes he's learned a new one, and Kelly associates getting attention with it. Nick's spent the last hour trying to get Kelly to say it over and over, with sporadic results, leading her to think she may be right. Still, she can't help but smile at Nick's obvious glee. Diana seems amused by it, too, awakened by Nick's excitement as he was fairly shouting with joy, as she grins and Nick goes on and on about how brilliant his son is to finally say "da-da."

"Okay, okay," Adalind says when Nick finally gets another one. "I think he's got da-da down." Nick beams proudly at the room, then at Kelly before setting him down next to the "table."

"I knew all that time spent in the trenches couldn't be ignored," Nick says to Kelly as he crawls away, knocking over a glass of juice. Adalind grabs for the utensils before her son does and holds out her arms for him as she rolls her eyes.

"You're not the only one that changes his diapers, you know. Here, sit down, and finish your coffee."

"I should probably get ready for work," Nick says, gulping down the last of his coffee. She glances at him, marveling how not even two hours ago he was gravely injured and that it appears as though the injury and poison never happened. It's incredible and disturbing at the same time. They're using something he freely admits they don't know anything about, and experience has taught her to be wary of strange magic.

"Maybe you should take the day and rest," she suggests, still afraid that something may happen with the poison that was in his system that they can't see.

"Can't," Nick says. "We need the money."

She frowns, but says nothing, unable to argue his point. He's right, they do. Missing a day is not something they can afford to do.

"I'll be fine," Nick says at her look.

"You're not going to go back up there looking for whatever it is, are you?" she asks, because that's probably exactly what he's going to do. It's just him, and she wants to point out that she was right, he can't give it up, and that the world is not going to leave them alone, but she doesn't think it's going to help anything.

"I doubt Jake will let me," he says, shaking his head, and Adalind breathes a sigh of relief. "This is my last day riding shotgun with him. Next week I'm on my own."

Wonderful, she thinks. So, at best she has until Monday until he decides to go after whatever it was. She doesn't mention anything about Gillespie and what she read; now's not the time anyway with Diana with them.

She wants to tell him he needs to leave it alone, but she knows it will fall on deaf ears. Nick will do whatever Nick thinks is best, regardless of what she says, though she hopes against hope anyway.

"You need to be careful," is what she finally says. "We worry about you," she adds when he looks at her, and she hopes he understands her meaning. "You were lucky this time."

He nods after a moment, and she thinks she gets her point across.

"You get paid today, too, don't you?"

"Does that mean we'll get to eat on a real table?" Diana asks them.

"Let's hope," Nick says. "I kind of miss chairs."

"We need to see about getting a bed for upstairs."

"I slept in the sleeping bag," Diana says. "It wasn't very comfortable."

"Well, you can have your bed back tonight. I can sleep in the loft again. Sorry for taking over your bed."

"It's okay," Diana says with a shrug. She had taken their explanation for Nick's surprising turn for the better as due to Adalind's efforts and a good night's rest without comment, leaving Adalind to wonder how much she believed it, but she didn't pursue it further.

"We're getting a bed," Adalind says, because at this point she thinks they need it more than a table.

"You need to get whatever the kids and you need and not worry about me. I can sleep on the floor until the next paycheck," he says, though she can tell despite his efforts to hide it, it's not an aspect he's looking forward to.

" _I_ can't," she emphasizes, reminding him he's not alone in the decision. "We'll go into town again and see what we can find," she says. "I can drop you off at work and the kids and I can go do some shopping." Something flickers across Nick's face, leading her to believe despite what he said about Jake, that he indeed had plans to check out wherever and whatever it was that attacked him, maybe by taking the car before or after work? Unfortunately, she has plans of her own: she's thinking about driving to Kalispell and checking it out.

If this episode with Nick showed her one thing it was how naïve they were being thinking they could completely excise the old life from their new. She needs to know what wesen related help is nearby, if any, and where it's at. She doesn't want to be caught empty-handed the next time Nick encounters a wesen threat, and she doesn't want to rely on the stick until they know more about it. She's wondering if Kalispell might have more resources for researching the stick, too.

"It'll be nice after weeks hiding out in the middle of nowhere to take the kids somewhere and get out of the cabin for a bit," she says conversationally. "I can pick you up tonight when you get off work, or maybe Jake can drop you off."

She purposely drops the reminder she's been cooped up out here in the woods for weeks, caring for their children, while nearly every day he's been able to go out. Nick looks like he's considering putting together an argument against it but he nods after a moment and excuses himself to get ready. She watches him head to the washroom to clean up for work and looks down at Kelly tucked in her arms. She's glad he gave in, since she's not sure how many more days she can take being trapped in this cabin in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do and not go insane. She's also hoping since she'll have the car, she's delayed his trip back to the woods where he was attacked.

"Maybe we can stop by the library and get some books to read," she says to Diana, thinking of Liam's' offer to sign her up for a library card. They don't have the money to devote to buying any books, but the thought of having a ready excuse to borrow the car again in a week's, or two weeks' time, to return them is liberating. They can get some stories to read to Kelly, and maybe she can check out that book about the wolf, or find some others. She thinks again of Kalispell and determines she's going to check out the town thoroughly.

Diana nods enthusiastically at her suggestion and Adalind once again tasks her with making a list of the things they need.

"I guess that means we need to get ready, too," she says after a second, looking down at herself and then Diana and Kelly, all of them still dressed in their pajamas, or, in her case, the clothes she wore the day before.

She and Diana clear off the blanket and fold it up, and Adalind determines she's going to get her thrift shopper on and tackle the challenge of finding a deal, or deals, good enough that she can procure a dining set and the bed for her and Nick, and the rest of the things she needs.

She informs Nick of this and he raises an eyebrow as he watches her change her clothes in the loft, which amounts to a fresh pair of socks, and a different shirt. She still doesn't have much in the way of clothes; neither does Nick.

He's buttoning his shirt, and she realizes he has one less top for work thanks to whatever got him, and stifles a sigh. If it was anything she thought salvageable she'd sew it up, but she's pretty sure between the rips and the bloodstains it's a lost cause.

"Make sure you find your coat," she says, giving him a look. She suspects that's lost, too, particularly if he was wearing it when he was attacked, which she's sure he was, out in the elements. So that means it's probably destroyed.

"Right," he says, avoiding her eyes.

She watches him get ready, thinking of how just a couple of hours ago he confessed that he loves her. Months spent wondering if he shared her feelings, if it was to the same extent she felt for him, the hope that he did but never fully certain until now.

"Seriously, be careful. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," she says, stepping close to him. He looks at her and dips his head down, leaning forward to capture her mouth in a kiss.

"I promise I won't do anything stupid," he says when they break apart.

"Like go up on the mountain and try to find whatever got you?" she asks him point blank. He rolls his eyes. "We're done with that life, remember," she says a bit forcefully. "We're starting a new one, and Dave and Addy wouldn't go looking for trouble."

"Point taken," Nick says. "I won't go searching for it."

She's not sure if he means trouble or the Sammlergiftmicherin, but really, it amounts to about the same.

"Thank you," she says, hoping he means it, as she kisses him again.

%%%%

Jake's not at all like Adalind imagined.

Granted Nick really hasn't painted a picture about Jake or his job, but what little she's heard is thrown out the window when she finally meets him. She follows Nick into his office, Kelly and Diana waiting in the jeep while she hopes to get her hands on Nick's check and take it to town with her.

Jake's got the blackest hair she's ever seen, so dark it almost seems blue in the lighting. He's reedy, which surprises her, since, for some reason, she's expecting a much bigger guy, though again, Nick hasn't really described Jake's physical features, just that he likes to talk, and, she guesses, she must associate a big stature to go with a big personality. He's got hazel eyes, pale skin, which maybe attributes to the starkness of his hair color. He's young, too, which takes her by surprise.

"Dave!" Jake exclaims and Nick offers a half smile. She can tell, though he's said little about Jake over the last couple of weeks, that Nick likes his boss.

"Holy shit. I can't believe you're not dead or in a hospital."

"Disappointed?" Nick says, as Adalind looks around. The building that serves as the office of the Game Warden of north-western Montana is a tiny space for the amount of square miles it covers. There's several maps of Montana on the walls, including a large topographical one with about a dozen colored pushpins sticking out from it in a cluster and she wonders what they indicate. She looks around at the desks, one to the left of the door, the one Jake rises from when they enter, and two more a few feet away. She infers which one is Nick's by the shredded and slightly bloody coat thrown across the chair and she frowns, turning back to the men.

"Hell, no. Glad to see you still stake your claim amongst the living," Jake says coming around the desk and slapping Nick on the shoulder. He looks at Adalind, eyes raking over her curiously before he smiles.

"You must be Dave's wife. Addison?" Jake says to Adalind and she smiles in return.

"Yes, call me Addy," she says. "Everyone else does." _Starting from this point forward_ , she thinks silently.

"Jake," he says as he extends his hand and she shakes it, surprised how big his hands are, despite a build that really isn't much different than Nick's slight one. Jake leans against the edge of the desk and crosses his arms and his ankles. "Dave didn't mention how pretty you are."

 _Dave rarely does_ , she thinks but smiles, affecting a slightly embarrassed look, at the compliment.

"Thank you," she says. Jake looks between Nick and Adalind, clearly wondering why she might be here with them.

"Is this you giving your notice?" he asks Nick, not sounding surprised, but resigned.

"No," Nick replies, sounding surprised. "Why?"

"I figured, after what happened. Lot of people don't realize how dangerous it can be," Jake says, looking back at Adalind. Of course, he likely thinks she's the anxious and overprotective wife who wants her husband to quit such a risky job. She almost snorts in derision, but catches herself in time. If he only knew the kinds of deadly dangers Nick has been exposed to, not the least of which was her in all her vengeful, hexenbiest glory years ago. She shakes her head.

"I'm just here to grab his paycheck so I can get busy spending it," she tells Jake with a conspiratorial smile, and he grins back.

"Sounds like my girls," Jake says. "They spend it faster than I can earn it. Dave tell you I've got three girls, in addition to Leslie?" She shakes her head again, glancing momentarily at Nick, wondering if her lack of knowledge on Leslie is going to be something they both regret with the new life they're trying to establish.

"Stories you can regale her with another time. She's got the kids with her, waiting out in the car," Nick says to Jake.

"Ah," Jake replies, turning to reach for a pile of letters on his desk. "Well, seeing is believing. Have to have you and Dave over for dinner sometime, or maybe a playdate. Leslie's always scheduling playdates for the kids. And me, it seems."

"Sounds nice," Adalind agrees, but she's hoping it's not anytime soon. Diana's still too unpredictable to interact with other children, and Adalind's trying not to react every time Jake says the name Dave. She keeps having to remind herself Dave is Nick, and it doesn't seem like any of the practice they've done the last few weeks is helping her any.

Jake proffers Nick's check to him, and Nick signs it and hands it to Adalind with a put upon sigh.

"Thank you, gentlemen," she says with another smile and leans up on her tiptoes to kiss Nick on the cheek.

"Try not to get mauled today," she advises, and Nick rolls his eyes.

"Your concern is touching," he says with a touch of sarcasm, probably meaning it that way.

"We'll make it a priority," Jake promises. "Plan on spending some time in the office today, anyway, going over reports you need to file," he says to Nick and Adalind feels a wave of relief wash over her.

"Good," she says. "I'm holding you responsible if anything happens to him."

%%%%%

She cashes Nick's check at the first bank she comes to and points the jeep towards Kalispell. It's roughly 60,000 people, according to the sign, much smaller than Portland, but it feels like a big city after weeks spent in isolation in a cabin in the woods.

After some searching, she finds the library, and she issues strict instructions for Diana on her public behavior, no matter what may transpire, and puts her in charge of picking out some books for her and Kelly. She sets Kelly in his carrier down on the ground beside her and plops in front of a computer and begins searching for any information on an establishment similar to Rosalee's spice and tea here in the city. She thinks she finds one, but she won't know for sure until she goes down there and looks, and she writes the address down and googles how to find it. She googles some thrift shops, too, and then gets up to search through the card file for some books on Gillespie or the wolf, dragging a noisy Kelly with her.

Diana finds her still searching, holding a pile of books in her hands, and Adalind's glad at least one of them has something to show for this stop.

"Did you find some for Kelly?" she asks distractedly, around a pen in her mouth.

"I think so," Diana says uncertainly, holding up her selections. Adalind glances up and nods, before frowning in confusion at one of the books Diana's holding up.

" _Grimm's fairy tales_?" she says aloud, grabbing the pen out of her mouth. "Really?"

"Nick's mommy read them to me," she says.

"She did?" Adalind asks in surprise. She's wondering what version of them: the diluted, happy ending version that the kehrseites made movies from; the dark, generally one-sided violent version the Grimms documented; or the more fair-minded wesen versions. She doubts it was the latter.

"Uh-huh, I thought Kelly might like them, too, since he's a Grimm."

"He is?" Adalind says in surprise, momentarily diverted from her search. "How do you know?" She demands, wondering if her daughter has seen something? Adalind glances down at her son, who's busy blowing a spit bubble as he babbles incoherently, testing out his lungs and his audience periodically in the library.

"Nick's a Grimm," Diana says in a _duh_ sort of voice.

Adalind looks at her daughter, wondering if Diana's proclamation is just because of that reason. Nick's a Grimm and therefore his son must be one, too. They haven't talked much about what they are; what it means. She wonders if Diana fully understands what she's to be; did Nick's mom ever talk to her about it. How did she explain Diana's incredible abilities to her, or even did she? Diana thinks nothing of her ability to teleport an item with just a wave of her hand, or boil water just by staring at it, or her ability to astral project herself somewhere. Does she know what a hexenbiest is, has she even heard of that word? What they're capable of? How they're perceived by society, both Wesen and Kehrseite?

"Right, you mean like how you and I have some of the same abilities," Adalind says slowly, looking around her to see if anyone is close enough to overhear any part of this conversation. Diana nods. "Maybe Kelly's like us," she suggests, and Diana mulls this concept for a second before shaking her head.

"No, I think he's like Nick."

"Maybe he's a little of both of us," Adalind says, and Diana shrugs as though conceding the point, or perhaps more accurately, losing interest in the argument.

"What are you doing?" she asks her mother, looking at the long thin file drawer pulled out.

"Going through the card file," Adalind says, turning back to it with a sigh.

"Why?"

"I'm looking for some information on something and I thought I could find it here, but it doesn't look like they have anything," she says, shutting the drawer with another sigh. "I suppose we better check out and get started on our shopping."

She starts with the furniture shopping. She's got a budget for everything: the bed, if one's available, a dining set, groceries and clothing; rent; and utilities. There's precious little to go around. They visit a couple of thrift stores, Adalind lugging Kelly and his carrier around, wishing there was budget for a stroller, but thankfully there's a cart and she snatches it before anyone else does, offering a half-hearted smile of apology to another woman who appeared to be intent on it, who scowls at her. She picks up a couple more outfits each for Kelly and Diana; a pair of shoes. She needs clothes, too, as does Nick, but not as much as her children, so she searches long and hard for a couple of pieces they can use for the long haul, until they can afford to buy more.

She scours a consignment store but leaves within minutes, the prices too high for serious consideration. She checks her notes and heads to the next place, another thrift shop and finds a decent looking headboard and nightstand, but for more than she was willing to pay, and she stares at it for a long while, debating, mentally adding together the cost of a blanket and a set of sheets, before making note of it and going to her next venue. She's found a notice for an indoor flea market going on that weekend on the east side of town. She loads her kids up and drives to the address on the pamphlet. It's a large warehouse, with about a hundred booths and vendors and she and Diana spend the next three hours carefully looking over the contents.

Unlike the thrift shops she's frequented, she can haggle the vendors, and she must make a pathetic sight with two children and a look of desperation about her, her arms aching from holding Kelly, as she whittles the price down on a bed set, and again, emboldened by her success, on a table and four chairs, and a collapsible stroller and a box of toys for Kelly. She's almost giddy with her success, and she inquires as to the frequency of the event and has to quell her disappointment when she discovers there won't be another one for four months.

She has to check her enthusiasm, too, when she double checks her budget and realizes she's in danger of going over her allotment if she's not careful. There's a small emergency fund, just a few hundred left, in case they need it, (in case they need to run) but she knows it's too early to dip into it so soon. She tells Diana to cross the bed and the dining set off her list, and rounds up her purchases.

She's making arrangements to get it loaded, the vendors promising to haul it to a loading area towards the back of the warehouse, and as she follows the directions given by them to find it, she spots a curious booth towards the middle of the back of the building.

Rare and homeopathic herbs and spices and she pauses, Diana carrying an increasingly fussy Kelly in her arms, trying to sooth him as she walks on ahead, while Adalind looks over the booth. She approaches slowly, there's no one around it, and looks over some of the assembled jars and containers. There's labels on most of those on display, none of them particularly rare, she reflects. Most easily found in many specialty cooking shops.

"Is there anything in particular I can help you find?" the vendor asks politely. He's a stockily built man, with black, straight hair that flops over his forehead, and leathery skin. Adalind scrutinizes him carefully, the air charging a bit between them as he notices what she's doing, and she looks away, trying not to be so forward with her challenging look. She looks over the jars, debating on how exactly forward she should be, or if she should lead up to it with something else before diving right in.

"I'm looking for something in particular, but I don't see it," she says, shaking her head. She notes a stack of business cards among the displays, advertising a business based in Billings.

"What is it?" he asks. "I may have something here underneath the tables, or perhaps, if it's a rarer herb, something I can send to you from my shop."

"Bilberry?" she says, and he smiles, showing sharp, slightly crooked teeth.

"Of course, you must have not seen it," he says politely as he points to a table with a row of jars covering it, and taps the one containing bilberry.

"Do you have any Sri Lankan Cinnamon?" she says, and he gives her a curious look.

"I believe I do," he says, bending down and pulling the table cloth up. He searches underneath, head ducked low, as Adalind debates a moment longer.

"How about some rot inguen and Coeur diable?" she holds her breath as he stills. She instinctively inches back, a wise move since he shoots up from his spot and turns to her, eyes hard, and no longer friendly. They burn with an inhuman like intensity, turning orange before he regains control of himself and she has her answer.

"Actually," she says, eyeing him carefully, "forget those last two. What I really need is some henbane juice, newt's eye, and some heilung einfugen."

"I'm afraid I don't have anything like that," he says coolly. He glances around, somehow one eye never leaving hers. She nods agreeably, looking around, taking note of Diana standing behind her at one of the tables with Kelly, picking up random jars and announcing them to Kelly, apparently hoping to add more to his vocabulary. There's no one else near them.

She turns back to the vendor and woges suddenly, returning to her human visage just as quickly. He woges briefly, startled, revealing himself to be a Eidesche, which, Adalind thinks, explains the eye dexterity.

"Look again," she suggests sweetly, tapping into her demanding old self, and he nods after a moment, glancing down and Adalind realizes Diana has come up beside her with Kelly. She hopes she didn't see what she just did, and she smiles down nervously at her daughter.

"I'm hungry," Diana announces and the Eidesche flicks his eyes to her warily. He takes note of the children, something that makes Adalind incredibly uneasy, but he pulls his eyes back to his supplies and does as she asks.

He has everything she needs and she spends a few moments going over the VIP stash, making sure there isn't anything else she could use. Nick will likely be pissed if she spends half his paycheck on ingredients for wesen remedies, especially when she's sure he'll argue about using the stick to fix any other injuries that arrive. Still, she tempts fate by purchasing two more common (to wesen spells and potions) ingredients in addition to the others, and takes one of the Eidesche's cards and stuffs it in her pocket.

"That should do it," she announces to Diana and Kelly after taking the bagged items from the Eidesche with a grateful smile. His answering one is more subdued, and she realizes the long-standing mistrust and prejudice of other wesen for Hexenbiests is hard to overcome. That though she's succeeded in proving to Nick, and Nick's friends that she can be good, and kind, and trustworthy, there's still a long way to go among the brethren of her own society.

In so many ways, after taking the suppressant, it had been a relief to be free of the hexenbiest that had so long controlled and influenced her. She had been devastated when Nick had taken her powers away, so long ago, but the resulting year and a half without them showed she was resilient and capable in other ways, so that when she made the decision years later to prove the suppressant worked, it was much easier to stomach and accept what were admittedly only temporary changes.

She knows she and Nick would likely not be together now had it not been for that decision. So much of their relationship had been ruled by what they were, what society demanded they be and act around one another. Suppressing the hexenbiest let Nick see a side of her he could relate to, fall in love with, and she him. It let her see what was possible for herself, what kind of person she could be, what kind of mother to Kelly, partner to Nick, and that she could make the right decision and control the temptation she worried over if she felt it. She felt loved and accepted in a way that she never did, even and especially among the tight-knit groups that hexenbiests were often apart of.

The easy confidence of Rosalee, who assured her that she could make the right decisions, not let a label define her and her actions and her relationships. The proof that was Monroe, someone who'd been something awful once, too, and had shown, though it might be difficult, it was worth it to change. That though you may be derided by your kind, your life could still be impossibly full, and that other, more worthwhile relationships awaited you.

She wants that for her daughter. She wants Diana to have all the things she didn't: love and support and acceptance from her family, and a rich, full life of friends and good experiences. That there can be such a thing in society as a good hexenbiest.

But then, isn't what she and Nick are doing here the exact opposite? They've made a conscious and radical decision to deny what they are and live "normal," to pretend they're no different from anyone else who's unaware of what the world is truly composed of, to deny those instincts that call on them to summon their hidden natures. How to explain to Diana, that even though she can master her power (she hopes) and be good, she's going to have to hide what she is because people are still going to fear her anyway because she's different? That she can't be different?

Nick's relying on the fact that for decades the people who loved him could hide what they were, what he is, what surrounded him. True, she's largely hidden what she was from the outside world for as many years, so it shouldn't be so hard for them to accomplish what generations of ancestors have.

It takes some incredibly masterful help to load all the pieces she's purchased into and onto the Jeep, and as she watches two men strap the table to the roof of the car, she wonders how she's going to get it off it when she gets home. She still needs a mattress, likely the most expensive of all her purchases today, and it's going to suck if she can procure a bed for Nick and have nothing but an empty frame to look at. She realizes this is going to mean two trips, one to unload the Jeep and another to procure a mattress, and she further realizes the second trip is an unbudgeted gas expense that she's not sure they can afford.

She thanks the two men profusely and checks Kelly in his carrier in the back seat, the night stand to the bed set wedged onto the seat next to him, and smiles proudly at Diana. It's late into the afternoon by the time they reach home, and still another hour or so later when she and Diana get everything into the house, a combination of physical and magical prowess.

She's supposed to pick up Nick from work at six. There's still the matter of getting groceries for the next two weeks, as well as procuring a mattress and some linens for the bed. She decides to see what she can find at the church-run store in Whitefish where she first found Kelly's crib and Diana's bed, since it's close. It also means a drive past the Whitefish library, too.

She's surprised to find they remember her at the church, even though it's been weeks since she's been there, and it further makes her wonder how desperate and pathetic she must look to everyone else. It's a bit unnerving, too, because she doesn't want to stand out. This whole experiment she and Nick are embarking on only works if they're able to blend in and not attract attention.

She finds everything she needs, and she feels horrible taking their charity, in light of some of the other patrons milling about, particularly a woman in the shop with a heavily bruised and beaten face on one side, who's shaking slightly every time she pauses, following another female clerk around. The woman doesn't look at anyone, and barely whispers answers when she speaks. She clearly has nothing, not the least of which is probably the confidence to see this decision of independence through, and Adalind tries not to stare as she watches her.

"Are all these donations from patrons of the church?" Adalind quietly asks the man helping her, and the clerk nods.

"Most are. Some are from private donors of the community, and others from businesses who support our mission. We help people in need get back on their feet."

Adalind nods, feeling slightly embarrassed that they might consider her as suffering from the same plight as the other woman in the shop.

"It's a nice thing you do," she says, glancing at the beaten woman when she notices her woge, overcome with emotion, and Adalind spies a maushertz underneath the frail form. She looks away, both to give the woman privacy and not to risk detection herself. Another fellow wesen. A fellow wesen who's local, who would likely know the lay of the land and where to go to find the things Wesen needed around here. A fellow wesen in a relatively remote and unpopulated area, and to Adalind it signifies just how prevalent wesen are in society, and how difficult it's going to be to achieve what Nick's trying to do.

%%%%

"Nick! Guess what?" Diana exclaims when she sees him. The office is empty when they go to pick up Nick, and she's happy to hand her son off to Nick when he holds out his arms for Kelly, feeling as though her own are about to fall off. Now that she has a stroller, she keeps forgetting to use it, and she wound up carrying Kelly around the church store and then the library, too, in addition to almost every place they went today, except for the grocer and one thrift store.

"What?" Nick says, leaning back in a creaky desk chair, with a tired smile at her. He tosses a pen on his desk, and Adalind looks him over, making sure he still appears okay. It's been a long couple of weeks, even before yesterday's excitement, she reflects, and she's glad that he'll be coming home to some comfort tonight after weeks of being subjected to a hard floor.

"We got everything on our list!" Diana tells him, and Nick quirks an eyebrow in disbelief at Adalind. She can't help a smug grin.

"Everything?" he repeats, looking at Diana.

"Yup," Diana says, circling Nick's desk and peering at the things on top of it.

"Something to set plates on and sit on while we eat?"

"Yup," Adalind says, with a look at Diana.

"Clothes?"

"Yup," Diana says.

"Food?"

"Yup," Adalind confirms. "They're in the car."

"A bed?" he asks cautiously, as though it's too much to dream. He glances between them when they smile at each other. "Really?"

"Yup," Diana says.

"Seriously?" Nick asks Adalind.

"Yes, you and I are going to be awash in warmth and comfort from this night forward."

"Wow," Nick says, looking stunned. "I think I love you. Even more."

"You should," Adalind replies smugly. "What we accomplished was no less than incredible."

"I'll say," he agrees, and leans forward to plant a solid kiss on her mouth. "Thank you," he says, and wraps one arm awkwardly around Diana and plants a kiss in her hair before either has too much time to think about it.

"Told you he'd be happy," Adalind says and Diana grins.

"We also got some books from the library, and some toys and a stroller for Kelly, and mommy let me get crayons and some coloring books, too."

Nick continues to radiate surprise.

"Is there any money left for the rent and the utilities?" he asks worriedly.

"Of course," Adalind sniffs. Barely, she concedes, but they've spent the last two weeks eeking out every dime they can, they can do it for two more, she reasons.

They pile into the Jeep and head home, Adalind glad to turn over driving duties to Nick as Diana continues to regale him with the details of their day. She half-listens, half drifts off, and she's jostled awake when Nick takes the lane to their cabin.

Hours later, after dinner and when the kids have finally been laid to rest in their beds, she collapses on her own. She had all sorts of wicked designs to break in the bed with Nick; perhaps, if the kids weren't with them, _breaking_ the bed with him, relieving weeks of pent of frustration as she relived every fantasy and dream she's ever had of him, but she's so tired all she wants to do is snuggle into the pillow and sleep for a week.

The sigh that escapes Nick's lip as he stretches out alongside her on the mattress is almost as good as one _had_ they partaken in one of those fantasies.

"I know, right?" she says dreamily. "It's better than anything I could do to you."

"Almost," he agrees, and she smiles, despite the fatigue. "We could do some of those things and see."

She snorts and rolls on her side towards him as Nick glances down at her, before propping himself up on one elbow and looking her over with interest. After days spent practically (and literally) on top of each other in a sleeping bag it feels incredible to have room to breathe between them. It feels ridiculously good just to roll, to be able to roll to her side, or to her stomach, or, hell, off the bed. Her arms aches, her back ache, all of her aches, and she can't imagine Nick's any less tired, but looking at him now you would never guess.

He looks eager and hopeful, and he trails light fingers along her side and down her body before leaning down and kissing her softly, then more insistently.

He wants to make love, and normally, Adalind would be eager herself, glad to have garnered his attention and affection without her having to be the one to suggest it. She allows him the privilege of deepening the kiss, his hands exploring. Yes, she's exhausted, but she can feel herself coming to life, as his fingers wander and play against her body, his mouth, too, teasing and exploring.

"Nick," she breathes, in a half moan, half whine, sliding fingers through his dark hair as he drifts lower along her abdomen, and he takes that as encouragement. He gets more brazen, making her ache in a different way, desperate with the need to have him inside her. He doesn't stop until she's writhing in pleasure, sweating against her freshly washed sheets.

His mouth finds hers again and a moment later he's sliding home, stilling as she adjusts and then finding the perfect rhythm to build the pleasure again. Her body coils and tightens as her own hands explore his body, touching him gently, intimately, when they change position and he watches her ride him to the finish, coming undone a second time before Nick takes control again and finds his own release.

Despite two feet of space on either side of them, they lie curled against one another in the middle of the bed, sweaty and sated, and Adalind finally falls asleep, smile on her face, listening to Nick breathlessly bid her goodnight and how he loves her.


	25. Part Five - Chapter Five

AN: Some misunderstanding with the initial post/AN. This is the last chapter with Nadalind for a bit. Next week back with the scoobies. Thanks again to everyone for all the feedback. It means a lot to me. :-)

%%%%

Though he promised Adalind he wouldn't go looking for trouble, he's as surprised as anyone that for nearly three months afterwards he keeps it. Though he follows the progress of the wolf in the woods via the tracker they have on him, he's kept busy with other things, the winter especially harsh, resulting in several accounts of poaching, and he spends his first few weeks alone on the job going after leads on that. He makes three arrests in as many weeks, impressing his boss, who wonders aloud if they even need Ted to come back.

"You've made more progress in the three weeks than he made in three months." Ted's due to come back shortly, after a long leave of absence after a fight with a bear.

Life at home keeps him busy, too, though it settles into a sort of uneasy routine. Uneasy for Nick, because he's wary of the sort of calm and banality that settles over them, afraid it's the proverbial calm before the storm. He can't imagine Renard's given up, though each day that passes without incident makes him wonder if they're succeeding in what they set out to do. Adalind spends the next few months acquiring more furniture for their cabin, making it into a home with the addition first of an armchair, and then, later, a sofa and a couple of tables. She, most days, spends uncomplainingly with the children, working with Diana at home on schooling, and helping Kelly to take his first steps.

He babbles incessantly now, and not only does he recognize Nick as Dada, Adalind as Mama, and Diana as Deedee, but he continues to add words and recognition every day, and Nick is amazed at how fast he grows. He toddles around unsteadily here and there, but his preferred, and speediest method is still crawling, and when Nick mentions to Jake how they have to watch him because he's into everything, Jake brings to work a load of baby and toddler gear that fills the back of his Park service issued crew cab.

"I remember you said you guys were starting over and didn't have much," he says awkwardly. "So I thought you might like some of this stuff now that we're not using it. Sorry so much of it is pink," he adds.

"You sure you're not going to need it?"

"God I hope not. After the last one Leslie said I needed to take care that I never touch her again or that if I do I'm firing blanks for the duration."

"You could have tried birth control," Nick suggests.

"We were on birth control with the last two. Supposedly with a 99% effective rate. You didn't know you were working with a one percenter, huh?"

"Congratulations."

"Thanks, I didn't take it so well at first, but it's all good now."

Nick can understand the feeling, remembering how he felt when Adalind dropped the bomb she was pregnant with Kelly. He wonders now how he would take the news if he found out she was pregnant again, himself a one percenter. He's slightly unsettled to know he hasn't exactly inquired into what methods Adalind's using to prevent an unexpected addition to their family. The sad fact is, he's not doing anything to help stop it. He's actually increasing the likelihood of it with the amount of sex they now have.

Without police and wesen issues interrupting him at all hours of the day and night, he's generally home by six every evening, and he and Adalind have settled into a very welcome routine of having sex regularly.

He thanks Jake for the donations and even though they are a little more effeminate than he'd prefer for his son, he can tell Adalind's excited. It helps to further make the cabin feel more like their home with a highchair and a playpen and a swing for Kelly and his toys all around. Diana's slowly amassing a few personal effects, too, though it comes to Nick how lonely she is for friends of her own.

This is apparent when, unable to offer any more excuses without being suspicious or rude, especially after Jake's generosity, they agree to a dinner over at his house, and Diana is introduced to Jake's daughters.

Dinner's a mostly uneventful affair and surprisingly pleasant, despite the fact Jake's wife spends most of it subtly interrogating both Nick and Adalind. She rivals some of the best interrogators he's known and she covers a dozen topics ranging from Adalind's background to how she and Dave met, and whether they plan to have more children.

"You're not getting any younger," she points out as both Adalind and Nick fumble for an answer.

"We—"

"I don't—"

"Christ, Leslie," Jake mutters and Leslie gives him a flinty eye.

"We haven't really talked about it," Adalind stutters out, glancing at Nick and then hurriedly looking away, leading him to think she's thought about it, and he wonders again about what measures they're taking to prevent another one, and how he'd feel if she told him they were expecting another one tomorrow.

"We didn't plan any of ours. None of them," Leslie informs them as Jake rolls his eyes skyward.

"Kelly was a bit of a surprise," Adalind admits, and Nick manages not to snort out loud. "But a welcome one," she adds hastily.

Leslie also manages to touch on the reason why they moved to Whitefish, or at least the reason they're offering, which is that they're starting over, getting Adalind away from an emotionally manipulative and controlling relationship.

"Wow," Leslie says, looking at Adalind over her wine glass.

"Yeah, he was clever and charming, and conniving," Adalind says a bit hesitantly, as though she doesn't want to talk about it. "When I first met Diana's dad, I was flattered when he showed me interest. He's older than me, and he came from a pretty prominent family overseas and he was eager to prove himself, sometimes by dubious means. He could be ruthless, too. I was young and naive and thought I had landed a great catch, and that I wanted the things he represented. He's pretty…politically...connected, and all he wanted was power. He started to make some cutthroat decisions to attain it. After I had Diana...some things happened that made me question what were important, but it seemed like Diana's well-being wasn't always at the forefront of his mind, and his decisions started affecting my and Diana's life. I had to get out."

"He doesn't sound like a good guy," Leslie remarks without censure.

"He's...he's not when all he's focused on is how he can move up in the world. He's not surrounded by the best people, either. I didn't want my daughter around it."

"You ever think about going to the police?"

Adalind smiles thinly. "He is the police."

Jake flicks his eyes to Nick and Nick smiles grimly and waits to see how they react next. Adalind's playing it perfectly. A pretty young woman taken in by an older, influential man. Someone in a position of power, charismatic and controlling. The sense that she's gotten in over her head and has nowhere and no one she can to turn to for help when her situation becomes unbearable.

"Dave was my salvation," she says, smiling faintly at Nick.

"Sounds so dramatic," Leslie comments, swishing her wine around in her glass before taking a sip.

"I know, right? It's like a Lifetime movie, or something," Adalind agrees. "I just want to be with my husband and raise my children and live quietly without anyone bothering us."

"Here's to that," Leslie says, holding out her wine glass and everyone clinks in agreement. After that, it's Nick's turn for questioning as Leslie turns her attention to him, but he's had years of practice deflecting questions and lying about who he is, not to mention the years being on the other side of the interrogation table, so she's not able to garner much more information than she already knows. He allows a few tidbits, here and there, since he doesn't want to seem too secretive, knowing how it can backfire and be cause for more scrutiny. There's a fine line between private and people thinking you're hiding something. They spend three hours chatting amiably, and Nick is pleasantly surprised that Diana manages to abide by their decree to not use her powers and to be on her best behavior.

When it's time to leave, they collect her from the playroom where she and Jake's three girls have spent most of the night playing. They find Diana and Jessie, Jake's oldest, sitting cross-legged on either side of a large dollhouse in the middle of the room, adorned in bright pink and purple feather boas and in Diana's case a crown, and Jessie's a pair of butterfly wings, discussing decorating ideas for the "ballroom," and Nick notes that despite limited interaction with the royal side of her family, or any children's movies for that matter, she seems to know exactly what the role of princess entails. Maybe it's something all little girls learn early, he thinks.

"Your royal highnesses, it's time to call it a night," Jake informs them.

"I'm the princess," Diana tells him primly and Adalind chuckles nervously.

"I'm the good fairy Esmerelda, esteemed counsel to the princess," Jessie pipes up in a haughty tone.

The younger girls inform the adults that one is a knight, despite a vigorous argument from Jessie that only boys can be knights and she's clearly not a boy. She christens Kelly, half asleep and held securely in Adalind's arms, as the knight, much to Lizzie's indignation, when Diana interrupts her.

"Kelly can't be a knight, he's a Grimm, right mom?" and Nick feels his heart seize.

"Sure," Adalind says agreeably, in a tone of voice that says she's just going along with it, and isn't it cute what the girls have thought up? "It's time to go. Say goodnight to the girls and help them put the toys up."

"What's a Grimm?" Lizzie inquires.

"They're like a knight," Diana says. "They're supposed to fight the bad wesen."

"What's a wesen?"

"Ooooh-kay, I think that's enough fairy tales for you," Adalind says with another strained chuckle, patting Diana's shoulder, smiling at everyone. "Maybe we'll check something new out at the library, like a Nancy Drew, next time."

"Who's Nancy Drew?" Diana asks.

"Oh, I used to love Nancy Drew," Leslie says. "I've read every one. She's a detective, she solves mysteries."

"Like Nick?" Diana says skeptically.

"Who?" Leslie asks.

"Somebody Addy used to know," Nick says with a strained chuckle of his own. "Hurry up," he adds needing to speed things along before everything starts to unravel. "We need to get Kelly to bed." After some whining from the girls they grudgingly comply. Diana bids everyone goodbye with a wave, and Leslie and Adalind make promises that the girls will get together soon.

"That wasn't so bad," Adalind says in the silence as they drive home, Kelly asleep as soon as the car started moving. "I don't think they suspect anything weird," she adds, when Nick frowns, not as convinced the evening came off as seamless as they were hoping, but nods in agreement. Nothing was as weird as the reality, anyway. "Did you have fun with Jessie and the other girls?" Adalind asks Diana over her shoulder.

"Yeah," Diana says, "Jessie's nice," and Nick reflects she did seem content all night, the girls playing largely without incident, though he wonders how much of her will was exerted on the other girls. "I didn't use my powers," she adds, her words uncannily in line with Nick's thoughts, and he tries not to show his discomfiture.

"Yes, you did good," Adalind agrees. "Thank you."

%%%%

It's a few days after the dinner when Nick finally meets the other warden of their territory, Ted.

Ted's a couple of inches shorter than Nick, with a muscular build and a general aura about him that screams muscle head. He's also got dark eyes, reddish blonde locks, and a wild look about him. He eyes Nick - and Nick's sunglasses - mistrustfully when he enters and glances at Jake.

"Who's the movie star?"

"This is Dave," Jake says. "He's the new game warden I hired while you were out."

Nick politely holds out his hand to shake while Ted pretends not to see it. Nick lets it drop as Ted grunts, tossing a bag onto his desk, and then proceeds to stare down Nick at his. Nick leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together over his chest, not the least bit intimidated.

"Lights too bright?" he asks rudely.

"A little bit," Nick says.

"You hung over or something?"

"He's got an eye condition. He has to wear them all the time," Jake answers, trying not to roll his eyes. Ted grunts again and takes a seat, looking his desk over carefully, as though Nick's been there, rifling through it, disturbing the contents.

He hasn't, but Ted makes a good show of spending the next ten minutes going over everything carefully before he's forced to give up for the time being.

Over the next few minutes, Nick discovers in addition to being rude and paranoid, Ted's loud and obnoxious. Suffice it to say, he's an asshole.

This is readily apparent when Adalind blows into the ranger station two days later to pick up Nick's check to cash. Ted spies Adalind from his spot at the back of the office, near the microwave, where he's fixing up something that smells like reheated worm guts, and Nick mentally adds that to the list of offenses he's tallying on Ted. Ted whistles loud and low, and the beautiful smile Adalind had bestowed on Nick when she spotted him falters.

"Oh, sorry, didn't realize someone else was here," she says by way of apology. The door to the office rattles as Diana maneuvers an unsteady Kelly through it, both giggling. Diana is very fond of her brother, and Kelly, her. Over the course of the last few months Nick's had plenty of opportunity to see how Diana dotes on him, and their mutual love of Kelly and Adalind has helped to bridge some of the separation and awkwardness between her and Nick. She's taken to waiting for Nick to come home every day, skipping out to him when he arrives and bombarding him with questions about his day and anecdotes of hers, the things she's learned in "school" with Adalind, which definitely sounds non-traditional from what he was studying at her age, and "assisting" him with various projects around the cabin and property.

"Dada!" Kelly cries out when he spots Nick, and pulls out of Diana's hands and crawls speedily over to Nick's feet, using a grip on Nick's pant leg to pull himself up. Nick smiles down at his boy, before Ted's next comment causes him to scowl.

"These carpet crawlers yours?" Ted asks Nick and Adalind gives him a look.

Ted doesn't wait for a response as he turns his attention more fully to Adalind, who admittedly even with jeans she's been wearing for days straight and a well-worn sweater, manages to look pretty damn good, with blue eyes that pop with her darker locks and porcelain skin. The sweater clings to her form, accentuating every curve and Nick would definitely appreciate the view more if Ted wasn't being so obvious in his approval of it, too.

"This is my wife," Nick emphasizes pointedly, by way of introduction, and Adalind's eyes flick to Nick's, "Addy, and my two children, Kelly and Diana."

He doesn't think Ted hears him though because he's too busy trying to hit on Adalind, as though Nick hasn't said a thing, and both Nick and Diana regard Ted with a decidedly unfriendly look. So does Adalind, though she tries to appear polite, and Nick sits back, silently lamenting the fact he won't get to see Adalind hand this jerk his ass, which is a shame really, because he can admit Adalind in 'biest mode is a wonderful sight to behold, particularly when it's not Nick's ass she's kicking. Although, really, he's probably had a few more thrills than he probably should admit to even when she was. Fleeting thrills, but thrills nonetheless.

"Hello," Adalind says politely, if coolly, to Ted, but she doesn't offer any more than that as she turns her attention to Nick.

The curt dismissal clearly rankles Ted, as he clenches his jaw and woges briefly, revealing the not surprising face of a Klaustreich and Nick barely refrains from rolling his eyes. He doesn't think Adalind sees it from the angle she's facing Nick, and thus facing mostly away from Ted. Nick can't help but think he's doomed in this notion of living quietly in the mountains somewhere. Naturally an office with three people and one of them would be Wesen, plus the fact that whatever mauled him in the woods had to be wesen. He doesn't know what that says about the prevalence of Wesen in the general population - that at least thirty percent or greater of it is parahuman?

It probably says more about his miscalculation, or his hope, that despite being neck deep in wesen issues his last six years in Portland, he thought he might be able to find someplace devoid of wesen.

Ted makes no attempt to hide he's eavesdropping on Adalind's conversation with Nick, and Nick can tell she's annoyed with it.

"The kids and I are going to run into town and get some things," she says and Nick nods, having already assumed that based on her behavior the last five paydays. It's something of a routine now, so that the last two paydays he's already signed his check in anticipation of her arrival and today is no different. He hands her the check and she flashes a high wattage grin at him. "We'll let you get back to work. Say goodbye to daddy," she instructs the kids, and though Diana's never referred to him as anything other than Nick, or Dave if the situation calls for it, in the nearly six months they've all been living together, she offers a "Bye, daddy," as she reclaims Kelly and waves his arm for him at Nick.

The shocks aren't over, though as Adalind offers a farewell of her own.

"Bye, sweetie," she says and Nick raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement and then surprise when she bends down and plants a solid kiss on his mouth.

She flashes another smile, this one a frosty one, at Ted and follows the kids out of the office.

Ted glances back at Nick, looking like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, and Nick laces his fingers behind his head and leans back in his chair and smiles.

%%%%%

He's not smiling, though, days later, when he's stuck in his truck, Ted beside him at Jake's instruction, as they drive up over one of the mountain passes in pursuit of illegal hunters who've been reported in one of the wildlife reserve areas.

Ted and Nick have spent most of their acquaintance, subtly in Nick's case, and obviously in Ted's, avoiding one another. Nick, because he finds Ted obnoxious and he doesn't want to risk tipping him off to the fact he's a Grimm; Ted's reasons for avoiding Nick are less obvious, he's not sure why, except Ted's an ass, and clearly finds Nick's presence in the office threatening for various non-Grimm reasons.

It's approaching spring, though one would never know it with the record snowfall they've had, much of which is still present on the ground, especially higher up in the mountains. The wolf's been sighted a handful of times, but neither Nick, nor Jake, or even Ted have been able to do much about it. It displays an uncanny ability to stay ahead of their efforts, and by the time they're able to get to the area where it was last spotted it's gone. So, too, is the curious pattern it was exhibiting earlier that Jake had carefully noted with pushpins on his map. All in all, its behavior leads Nick to further believe what he's dealing with is wesen.

He's also heard the story from Adalind about a Mike Gillespie and a pet wolf, and he mentions the name to Ted, mostly to fill the awkward silence pervading the cab of his truck.

"Gillespie?" Ted repeats, surprised. "That ole' crook? Yeah, I've heard of him. Hell, haven't heard that name in a long time. How'd you hear about him?" he asks Nick with a note of suspicion.

"My wife discovered an article on him and a pet wolf he had in a book about the area here when she was browsing at the library. She's interested in history and local lore, and the like."

"Gillespie, man. There are some crazy stories about him," Ted says with a snort.

"What kind of stories?"

"You wouldn't believe me," Ted says, shaking his head dismissively.

"Try me," Nick replies. "Besides, I love a good story."

Ted's silent for a moment, and Nick waits him out before Ted speaks reluctantly.

"Wasn't no pet, the wolf. At least not how I heard it, anyway."

"What'd you hear?"

"The story of Gillespie and that damn wolf has been passed down for the last three generations at least. That wolf was a monster, huge sucker, and mean as a demon, but clever, too. Wasn't nothing right about the wolf, or like any wolf you and I have met."

Nick thinks of Monroe, thinks of every Blutbad he's met and wonders if Ted is obliquely referring to that, or something else. True, the typical Blutbad could be vicious, certainly clever and cunning, like in the case of Angelina, but would he categorize them as mean as a demon? Was that even something he should be trying to categorize, given it's likely just Ted's opinion? Maybe it was just the way the people categorized the carnage typical of them.

"My wife said in the story she read that Gillespie supposedly saved the wolf's life."

"More like he spared it, but for whatever reason no one knows. Gillespie wasn't much nicer than the wolf, and he was definitely uglier to look at."

Nick glances at Ted, noting a couple of scars on his cheek, as Ted watches the scenery pass by on the highway. Because of their pernicious nature Klaustreichs were likelier than most to be involved in violent altercations. Eventually you rub someone the wrong way that can do something about it. He can't help but wonder about Gillespie, the likelihood that he was wesen, too, but what kind? Was he a Sammlergiftmicheren? Adalind thought whatever might have attacked him was that, but she had a hard time explaining and remembering what they looked like, having only heard of them herself in passing. He wishes he had his Grimm books or Monroe and Rosalee for more information. He makes a note to go to the library with Adalind one day and see if he were to google the name if anything would come up, but he doesn't think it's likely.

"My wife tried to find some more information on Gillespie, but she couldn't really find anything. Doesn't seem like a lot was known about him."

"Kept to himself, mostly. He hated the townspeople and the townspeople hated him. Traded with a few of the Indians living up in the hills, but most of the time you hardly ever saw him."

"No family?"

"None that would ever admit to it."

"So, no one knows if he ever had children or not," Nick says, wondering if what they were dealing with now was somehow related to Gillespie, a descendant.

"If he did, he probably skinned and ate them," Ted says and Nick grimaces. God, he hopes he's not going to have to deal with some baby-eater, and he has a moment where he sees Monroe's disgusted face before he mentally shakes the image loose. Nick glances at Ted and Ted smiles grimly.

"Like I said, he wasn't much nicer than the wolf."

"Where'd he come from? Was he born here?"

Ted shakes his head. "Best anyone can guess is he came from Canada, followed the big game down this way and settled for a bit in the area. He probably lived here twenty or thirty years or so before folks said he went back, but no one really knows for sure. There's lots of theories about Gillespie and why he disappeared."

"Such as?"

"Whatever partnership he had with the wolf came to a grisly end, grisly on Gillespie's side. Not to mention the fact, he left during a difficult winter, kind of like the one we just had. Back then you hiked through the mountains if you wanted to get somewhere. There's plenty that say he succumbed to the elements and his bones are scattered over the mountain pass by the wildlife who feasted on his carcass."

"Right," Nick says.

"There's still others that say Gillespie never left, just retreated further into the hills and survived off the land."

It's this that makes the back of Nick's neck prickle, because despite the fact that Gillespie would, or should, be so old a man as to be certainly dead, he's reminded of Adalind's admonishment before he left for Germany. _Some very bad things live a very long time._

Maybe whatever Gillespie is, is one of those things. Maybe the wolf, too. Maybe they're the same thing, not two different ones as everyone suspects.

"Which do you believe?" Nick asks him, shifting the truck into four-wheel drive as they begin a narrow path up the mountain pass where the hunters were spotted.

"Nobody's going to run me off," Ted says, and Nick wonders if it's a veiled threat. "Everything that everyone says about Gillespie would make me think he stuck it out."

"Maybe he just got tired of dealing with everyone's shit," Nick points out. "From what my wife read and what you've said he wasn't very popular, and it seems like the townspeople wanted him gone."

"All the more reason to stay," Ted replies. "Fuck 'em. Still, that deep in the woods, that's a hard life."

"Sounds like he was used to it," Nick says. Ted tips his head, conceding the point. "Did anyone ever see Gillespie with the wolf?"

"That lived to tell about it?" Ted asks. "Not that I ever heard. All the stories that have been passed down are just that, stories. No one's ever had a credible sighting or proof that the wolf even existed, or that the wolf was a domesticated pet of his, or whatever else they can make up."

"Supposedly this wolf attacked and killed several humans in Kalispell, and some other places."

"The wolf was just being wolf. They do that when you encroach on their territory and threaten them or their young. They get aggressive, too, if there's not much food. Bold, like the one Jake's following."

"Have you seen him?" Nick asks him.

"Once," Ted admits. "He's an impressive animal. Almost hate to have to put him down. Hoping maybe we can relocate him, but once they attack humans you pretty much have to put them down, they just keep getting bolder and bolder, and humans keep getting stupider and stupider."

"He's huge," Nick says. "You think he might be a descendant of Gillespie's wolf?" Or, perhaps, Gillespie, Nick adds silently.

"Anything's possible," Ted replies with a shrug. "You see all sorts of strange and incredible shit up here, especially if you live long enough."

"Like what?" Nick asks warily, wondering what Ted might be referring to, or if it's just a general remark.

"I'd hate to spoil the surprise. You think Jake's wolf is what got you?"

It's Nick's turn to shrug. "I don't think so," he admits. "I was looking right it when I got attacked. No way it moved that fast."

"You'd be surprised how quickly some things can move," Ted says. "You got lucky," he adds disgustedly. "Not a lot of friendly things deep in the forest. You're on their turf, not yours."

"True," Nick says, bracing as they go over some tree roots.

"Why's your wife so interested in this?" Ted asks him.

"Like I said, she's big into local lore, myths and legends, and history. She's kind of a big nerd that way."

Ted grunts.

"So what's _your_ story?" Ted asks him, turning more fully to look at Nick.

"What do you mean?" Nick replies.

"You're not from here. You've got some hot babe of a wife and two kids, and what? You just decided to move them out in bumfuck nowhere and rough it in the woods?"

"I was looking for work at the resort, and Addy spotted this job in the paper. It seemed like a better fit."

"You don't find many people that move up here for the bustling career opportunities," Ted replies, and Nick nods in agreement.

"No, probably not," he agrees.

"Where are you from?"

"I've lived all over," Nick answers vaguely. "I was raised by my aunt, and one year we lived in Idaho and I went with some school friends to the resort in Whitefish. This is a beautiful area," Nick says. "I remember thinking how nice it would be to raise a family in a place like this. Not be constantly moving."

"Didn't you serve in the military? Jake says that's how you damaged your eyes. I don't imagine you stayed in any one place too long there," Ted remarks, and Nick nods again, ruefully. He wonders how much Ted's been checking up on him. He remembers the dinner with Jake and his thoughts that they might not have come off as unsuspecting and innocent as they were hoping and wonders what's been going on that he's not aware about. Are Jake and Leslie starting to question what they know about him?

"Where'd you serve?" Ted asks him.

"Overseas a bit," Nick says. "I was a MP," Nick says, and Ted snorts.

"You seem like a cop," Ted says and Nick tries to hide a frown, wondering if there's some aura about him he'll never be able to shake. "How'd you end up on the wrong end of a flash bomb, then?"

"Wrong place, wrong time," Nick says. "Don't remember much about it, really. I was glad to get out," he adds, hoping that will deflect any deeper questions about his service. It seems to work.

"Your wife work?"

"She stays at home and takes care of our son and daughter; can't afford daycare."

"The girl's not in school? Seems like she should be in school."

"She's home-schooled," Nick replies. "She's been through a lot and my wife and I don't think she's ready to be enrolled in a public school yet."

"She's a strange one," Ted agrees. "Something's not right about her, the way she looks at you," he adds, and Nick's frown deepens, wondering if Ted means himself, or Nick, and what specifically about Diana he's seen. "This looks like the spot," Ted says, pointing to a site that looks like an abandoned camp. Nick's glad to get off the subject of Diana and his life for the time being.

There are tracks everywhere, especially all around the camp site where the hunters moved about frequently. Finally they hit upon a set that appears, according to Ted, to be the direction they set off in, and Nick and Ted follow. They march through the snow without speaking, Nick listening with his enhanced hearing and Ted tracking the scent while looking like he's tracking the footpaths in the snow. Both stop when they reach a clearing, Nick's skin prickling with the sense of unease, and he can only assume Ted senses the same thing.

"Park service!" Ted calls out, though Nick doesn't see or hear anything. "You're trespassing on government property and hunting illegally. You need to surrender your firearms and come with us."

A rifle shot rings out ten seconds later and whistles in the air right by Nick's ear, as Nick and Ted both dive for cover, each behind a tree.

"Doesn't sound like they're going to surrender," Nick says to Ted, who snarls.

"Assholes," he mutters.

"Game warden! Cease fire and lay down your weapons," he calls again and Nick looks over his shoulder to see where Ted's yelling to.

Another shot rings out in response, followed by a couple more, and based on their trajectory Nick deduces they're being shot at from multiple shooters scattered in sort of a half-moon shape around them.

He's been plenty beat up before on the job, and other than the time in the loft when Renard and black claw threw everything they had at him, he's never been shot while on duty. And technically he had been removed from duty when he was shot by black claw, he reasons, so he thinks there's no reason to start a new trend now.

"You got a line on any of them?" Nick asks Ted. "I can't see anybody."

Ted nods as he pulls out a pistol. "Four o'clock, in the bushes, wearing hunting camouflage," and Nick squints and looks where Ted's indicating. After a moment he sees it, or he thinks he sees it, someone in hunting gear, ducked down more behind a fallen tree trunk than bushes. He looks back around, trying to see if he can pinpoint anyone else in the same type of gear, and thinks he sees someone to his left.

He can't miss the Jagerbar running straight at him, though, when he turns back around to tell Ted, and he yells out in surprise, as the Jagerbar changes course abruptly as he catches sight of Ted and attacks him. Ted woges and snarls, lashing out as the Jagerbar tries to slash at his abdomen. Nick fires a shot, catching him neatly in the lower thigh, and the Jagerbar yelps and drops to the ground, face returning to human form as he lies there stunned, clutching his bloody leg. He turns to attend to Ted when he realizes that Ted's already up and running towards the brush where the shots came from.

"Ted! Ted!" Nick yells, glancing at the wounded man shivering on the snow. He pulls off his knit hat and presses it firmly against the wound, making the man cry out.

"Hold this, here. Firmly," he commands and the man nods hurriedly. "Do that and you probably won't lose the leg or your life," Nick adds and the man blanches. He thinks the wound is superficial, but he's hoping he'll be worried enough to just stay put so Nick doesn't have to worry about him trying to come after them again.

Another shot fires through the air, cracking the quiet with violent intent as Ted zeroes in on his target and dives for him. Nick's up and running when he's rudely reminded there was a report of three hunters, not two, when another shot rings out winging him in the arm. The force of the shot throws him, and he rolls into the snow, glancing down at his arm and huffs a breath of relief when he realizes the shot only grazed him. The relief is short lived, however, when another Jagerbar runs at him and body slams him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

And his sunglasses off his face. He squints in the suddenly bright daylight, trying to get his bearings as the Jagerbar rears up ready for another attack, when it locks eyes with Nick.

 _Fuck._

"Grimm!" Nick hears his shocked roar, and it all comes together, instinct and self-preservation and duty, and he somehow manages to get out from under the Jagerbar and level a blow himself. He adds a kick, too, for good measure, but he doesn't have much time to gather his wits, before the Jagerbar recovers his surprise and charges again, and it's all Nick can do to keep him from disemboweling him.

He scrambles for his gun, glinting in the snow, but he can't get a grip on it and still defend himself from the Jagerbar. He levels a few punches in its snarling face, finally succeeding in loosening the Jagerbar's grip on him for a moment. The moment's all he needs though to lunge for his gun and he grips and turns and fires the shot, nailing the Jagerbar in the shoulder. The face morphs back into a human one, and Nick watches, panting hard, as the Jagerbar lies stunned, before slowly meeting his eyes.

"Grimm," he whispers in awe. It's the last thing he says as he loses consciousness, and Nick closes his mouth and pulls away from the body. He checks to make sure the Jagerbar is still breathing, not sure if it's better in the long run for him to be dead or alive. Both will require long explanations if he's not careful, but he doesn't have any more time to give to the topic as he registers Ted still scrabbling with the last Jagerbar. He pulls himself to his feet to see if he needs help, glancing towards the area where he left the first Jagerbar wounded. He squints in the distance and then realizes he's still missing his sunglasses. He searches, looking over the snow and then back at the dead Jagerbar and spies a broken ear piece in the snow.

 _Shit._ He glances back towards Ted. He's woged, and it doesn't look like Ted is gaining much advantage from the fact. Nick utters another curse and goes to his aid. He fires a shot between them, and both Ted and the Jagerbar flinch away in surprise, Ted's face morphing back to his human form.

"Put your hands above your head," Nick commands. " _Now_." He fires another shot to show he's serious, this one just centimeters above the Jagerbar's head and the Jagerbar woges back to his human alter-ego and complies. "Face down on the ground," Nick adds.

Ted takes advantage of the distraction and dives for his own discarded firearm, and points it at the Jagerbar menacingly.

"You okay?" Nick asks him, wincing as he finally registers the wound in his arm. Ted nods.

"You? Where are the others?" Nick nods his head in the general direction of the other two wounded, as Ted pulls his eyes away from the Jagerbar and looks.

"Did you do that?" he asks disbelievingly and Nick shrugs.

"I guess," he admits and Ted eyes him suspiciously.

"How?"

"Lucky, I guess," Nick says, and Ted's eyes narrow further as Nick avoids his gaze.

"You're the damn luckiest, unlucky bastard I've ever met."

"No argument here," Nick agrees.

"You hurt?" Ted asks gruffly, looking at his arm.

"Just a graze," Nick says and Ted grunts, wrenching the arm of the Jagerbar painfully and yanking him up. "I'll be okay."

 _Until I get home and my wife sees it._

Except, of course, Adalind's not really his wife, but that hasn't deterred Nick from starting to consider her as such, whether or not the document that says they're married is a forgery. In the same manner he's started to think of Diana as his daughter, at the very least his step-daughter, he's begun to think of Adalind as the woman he'll spend the rest of his life with. That he wants to raise a family, and spend the rest of his life with.

Granted, the rest of his life doesn't appear it will be a very long time, if he keeps winding up in situations like these.

%%%%%

He's granted a small mercy when he's able to drop off the knocked-out Jagerbar at the hospital before he regains consciousness, but it's a shallow victory. Once he does, he's likely to talk, and rumors of a Grimm will circulate like wildfire. There are so few Grimms in the world, it will certainly shine a spotlight on the region among the wesen community, and he wonders if he should pack up Adalind and the kids and get out now while he can. Or, should he take steps to ensure the Jagerbar is never able to talk about what he saw, and it's this idea that gives him the most pause as he considers his options. He's pensive all the way back to the ranger station, and he's aware Ted's shooting him looks from time to time and that he may have another problem on his hands.

He's fairly certain Ted didn't see anything revealing about Nick, and Nick's been careful to avoid his eyes. Ted's even driving back, just to ensure that his focus stays more on the road than Nick, and Nick hopes it helps lend credibility to his claim about his eyes. He doesn't think it does, though, and he keeps a hand over his brow, ostensibly shielding light from his sensitive eyes, but it also helps to hide his unease, and further avoid interacting much with Ted.

Ted doesn't offer the use of his sunglasses to Nick, which also makes Nick suspect that Ted's not completely buying his story, but he can't tell for certain. Maybe it's just paranoia on Nick's part. Maybe it's just Ted being a typical ass on his.

Either way, they both seem to be glad to be out of each other's company when they part ways at the ranger station, and Ted leaves Nick to deal with explaining the finer details about what happened to Jake.

It's late when he gets home, and Diana's either given up on him, or is already gone to bed. There's no one waiting on the porch to run out and greet him, and he finds he misses his tiny one-man welcome committee.

Adalind, however, is up waiting for him inside, looking anxious and upset and Nick stifles a sigh and plasters on his best "I'm okay, everything's fine" smile before it slides right off with her next comment.

"I think we have a big problem. It's Diana."


	26. Part Six - Chapter One

AN: Back with the scoobies for a while. Thanks to everyone who follow, favorited and/or left reviews. I appreciate them! It keeps me (and this story) going.

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"All I'm saying is think about it," Wu says. Everyone's piled into the car and riding back, though it's not to Portland. They're just riding around aimlessly at this point, trying to grasp in their heads what Wu's trying to say, and Hank's not sure if the directionless driving is to delay the inevitable conclusion that everyone is refusing to accept: that Wu's right.

"Why would Nick not want to be found? Why would he leave?" Monroe says.

"They threatened his family," Wu says. "Think about it. Think back to that phone call he made to you."

Everyone's silent, remembering Monroe's account of the conversation.

"He basically told us right there," Wu says after a moment.

"He wouldn't just leave us and not say anything. He wouldn't just fall off the face of the earth and never contact us again."

Except, it's looking more and more like he did, Hank concedes.

"You know how important family is to him," Wu continues.

"Yeah, and we're his family," Monroe rebuts.

That's true, too, but there's an uneasy pit forming in Hank's stomach as he realizes Wu's onto something.

Nick's built a life, yes, since he's settled into Portland years ago, before even Hank knew him. When he first met Nick, he was partnered with a young man, eager, and intense, and dedicated to the job. Nick was already with Juliette at that point, about two years or less into the relationship and clearly smitten, though slow and cautious. Hank can remember all the methodical and careful thought that went into the decision to buy a house, the thought that Nick had that he and Juliette would be moving in together, the acknowledgement it was huge step and milestone in his relationship with Juliette. There was none of that hesitation with Adalind, though his feelings for and about her were much more complex and hidden.

Though now, Hank doesn't know how he never did see it, unless he just didn't want to. It was hard enough, to know that Adalind had played not only Hank once, and had nearly killed him, but had devastated Nick and Juliette and countless others whose lives he wasn't invested in, and yet they all (reluctantly) came to her aid when she had announced she had gotten pregnant with Nick's son.

It was harder still, he supposed, to accept that something had changed in the dynamic between Nick and Adalind and that something was pointing heavily to a romantic entanglement.

Nick had far more to lose by the time he and Adalind had a child together. And had lost much of it, and many times over.

Everything with Nick's relationship with Adalind was designed to protect the unexpected, but not, as it turned out, unwelcome, family that resulted. It wasn't too surprising when Nick had brought Kelly home from the hospital, that Adalind had went with them. That he took it upon himself to care for her, too. Though Nick had rarely talked about his own mother, he was clearly affected by the loss of her at an early age, and he'd seen firsthand how that second loss in adulthood had nearly swept him under. It was only the birth of his son that kept him from drowning in mindless anger and grief. Having to figure out how to co-parent a child with a woman you'd found reprehensible had to sharpen your focus on what was important, at least if you wanted that child to have a safe and stable life. Everything had been so new then, Nick finding out he was to be a father, Juliette becoming a Hexenbiest, the shattered relationship that resulted between her and Nick, and then his mother being beheaded, Nick was largely (and admirably) just reacting to everything that had been thrown at him, dealing with the blows that kept coming as best he could.

It was surprising, though, when weeks later Nick had sold his home, that he had taken Adalind with him. He supposed with Kelly being still so young that it would make sense to keep Adalind with his son. He's not sure what he expected, but his partner continuing to cohabit with the witch that had set into motion all the chaos months down the road was a bit alarming. He had assumed, once the dust settled, that Nick and Adalind would figure out a routine, a custody arrangement that would allow each to care for their son, but live separately.

He had underestimated both Nick and Adalind's commitment and desire to create and maintain a good, safe, and "normal" life for their son. They didn't even have separate rooms in his new place. He'd been as shocked as everyone else during their dinner at the loft to find what appeared to be evidence of Nick and Adalind sharing a bed, in addition to the loft, and a child and a life together. Nick was clearly becoming smitten with the woman he now shared a child with, and he can still recall the soft, proud, little smile on Nick's face when Adalind had made her speech and toast with the group at the loft.

The lines were getting blurred, and they were blurring quickly. Hank was only just starting to grasp, though, how far things had progressed between his partner and their one-time shared enemy when Black Claw forced Adalind's hand and she was made to make the impossible decision of choosing between Nick or her children. The resulting loss of his family, had left Nick unhinged, angry and volatile, and it was the first time Hank realized the extent of how much things had changed between Nick and Adalind.

For the first time he can really see it, looking back on it all: Nick was falling in love with Adalind. Nick was _in_ love with her. Of course, he was going to do anything to protect the woman he loved, and the baby he shared with her. He was incredibly protective of his family.

Hadn't he found Nick at the precinct bright and early one morning, trying to dig up information on Adalind's daughter, right after he'd expressed his concern and brewing mistrust that Adalind was with powers and had yet to confess it to Nick? What had happened that had changed all that, so that it hardly mattered?

He should have seen it sooner.

Renard had taken something away far more valuable to Nick than his job or any mysterious keys: he'd taken his family, as close to a lethal blow to Nick without actually levelling one. Hank's also aware that Nick's ruminated over his mother's lament over leaving her son and her own family behind for a long, long, time, that she came to regret her decision; wasn't sure in the long run whether it had been the right thing to do.

"He said _I need to do what's right for my son,"_ Wu reminds him.

" _They're all I have left_ ," Hank adds softly and he feels everyone look at him. "I think that says more about Nick's mindset than anything."

Monroe's silent for a moment, meeting Hank's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"You're saying they left on purpose."

"Yes, that's what I'm saying," Wu says. "I mean, think about it: we've never found a body, because there aren't any. We've investigated every possible scenario that involved Nick and Adalind being taken away: Black claw, the royals, except the one that says they left of their own free will."

"It doesn't make any sense," Trubel protests. "Nick's not the kind of person who just runs from his problems."

"It makes perfect sense," Hank argues. "He's trying to protect his family, and he thinks this is the way to do it."

"By leaving us high and dry in Portland while he just takes off somewhere?" Monroe scoffs. "And if that were the case, why wouldn't he say something once they got settled in? He has to know we're worried about him."

"Does he? Wu's right. Maybe he said all he was going to say. He basically told us he was going to do whatever it took to keep his family safe."

Though, like Monroe, Hank doesn't understand the silent treatment. He can understand Nick's desire to protect his family, but surely he has to know that everyone is wondering where and how he is. Does that mean they ran into trouble sometime after procuring the documents they needed?

"It would be nice if we knew what names they assumed," Hank says.

"It would be nice if we knew where they are. Do you think they're still in the area here?" Trubel asks and Hank shrugs.

"With fake IDs, it's possible they could be anywhere. Any idea as to the quality of documents Harrek provides?"

"Didn't really get that far," Wu says, "But the impression I had was that he was the go-to guy for the high-quality stuff."

"So he might be out of the country," Monroe says.

Hank twists his mouth. "I doubt it. That kind of quality is almost next to impossible, not to mention incredibly expensive. There's been no transactions on either of Nick's or Adalind's accounts that would lead me to think they funded something like that."

"She could have paid in cash," Trubel points out.

"She probably did," Hank agrees, "but I don't know where she would have found enough cash for that. She had just gone back to work. Half the reason she was living with Nick was because she had no money or job for a place to live or to take care of Kelly."

"Maybe she didn't pay anything, maybe that's why she did the spell," Monroe points out.

"I got the feeling the spell was to prevent Harrek from revealing or recognizing her identity," Wu says.

"Could be. Could be she did both. She's a hexenbiest, after all."

"So, they get new names and then what?" Hank says. "Did something happen after that?"

"The car was left in the woods, likely by Nick, on purpose. He ditched it, probably sometime around the time Adalind was procuring their fake IDs. Harrek said he never saw a man."

"Did he ditch it because something was after them?"

Wu shakes his head. "We've followed the evidence on something being after them, Black Claw, Renard, the royals, it doesn't add up."

"We followed the evidence in Portland, not Seattle."

"And you went to Seattle and you didn't see or hear anything, because there's nothing to see or hear," Wu rebuts, and Trubel frowns.

"I think Wu is right," Hank says. "If we want to figure out what happened to Nick and Adalind, we need to look at it from the perspective that everything they did was voluntary and calculated. They're not missing persons, they've disappeared."

"You're talking about Nick, I mean, he wouldn't just up and desert all of us. I mean, he's a cop and a Grimm—he's always been very aware of his duty as both of those."

"Yeah, and he's paid a big price for it," Hank retorts. "How many people did he lose? His mom? His Aunt? Juliette? And then Adalind and his son. You can't tell me after everything that's happened that you wouldn't pack up and move Rosalee and your baby somewhere else in a heartbeat if it meant that they could be safe? That maybe people would leave you alone? That you haven't thought about it?"

There's an uncomfortable silence in the back. Trubel glances at Monroe, as Hank eyes him in the review mirror.

"Yes. Fine! I've thought about it, but that doesn't mean I'd ditch you without a word before I did it. I mean, you guys are my friends, I'd at least try to make you understand."

"Maybe Nick didn't feel he had that luxury of time," Hank says. "Remember when he called us? There was only a small window of getting to Adalind and getting out before Renard discovered what happened. He was still wanted, especially after everything that happened at the North precinct."

"I'm telling you, it makes more sense when you look at the evidence from this way," Wu says.

"I just can't believe it," Monroe replies, shaking his head.

"Guys, this means that Nick and Adalind are alive," Trubel says in the next pregnant pause after that statement. Monroe looks at her and Wu snorts.

"Yeah, they just have no desire to see us."

He's not sure if it's desire, or lack thereof, that's keeping Nick away. Nick's not stupid, and he's a cop, or at least he was. He had to know what kind of shit storm he stirred up in the days leading to his arrest and then his subsequent disappearance. That Renard would be looking for a way to explain everything that happened and to pin the unexplainable on Nick.

He's likely aware that every cop in Portland is looking for him and still more beyond. That state and federal agencies might be in the manhunt, though Renard has kept the search largely in-house, but he's probably enlisted the help of any Wesen officials in high places within those organizations to be keeping an eye out for Nick, and Adalind, and especially his daughter.

It would make sense for Nick to lie low and keep a low profile. Procuring fake IDs was probably a risky necessity if he didn't want to live the rest of his life in a cave on the hillside with Adalind and Kelly and Diana.

It's _where_ Nick might go once he procured them that's been rattling around in Hank's mind for the last hour.

"He'd have to hide them," he says out loud and the conversation in the back quiets.

"What?"

"Wouldn't he? I mean, he has to know we're not the only ones looking for him. And Diana's supposedly a very special, powerful, child. Do you really think they'd risk her out and about in society?"

"Doubtful," Trubel says. "Not with powers like hers. There's no supposedly about it."

"It would probably depend on whether they thought they could hide what she is," Monroe points out, "and let me tell you, from what I've seen—they've would have their work cut out for them."

"Everyone's looking for her. Renard, the royals—all the wrong people. They're not going to risk her being discovered, would they?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm trying to figure out where would he go."

"Easy to get lost in a crowd," Wu points out.

"A child like Diana?" Monroe cuts in. "I don't know. She's incredibly powerful, and I don't know how much of her power she's got control of. I mean, normally a Wesen first coming of age—you've got to be careful, and make sure they understand how different they are from rest of society and how most of society would react if they knew what they were. Most of the time they can't control it right away. Kids are impulsive. It takes a while."

"Right, so he's probably not surrounded by people."

"If he knows that."

"Adalind would know," Trubel says.

"Exactly," Monroe agrees.

"So, you're thinking he's hiding out somewhere remote."

"You think?" Hank says, looking at Wu. "I mean there's arguments for both sides, but somebody like Diana…you wouldn't want to attract a lot of attention, and she would attract a lot of attention in a city, or a populated area."

"There's plenty of remote places around, especially in the hills, especially around here," Monroe says.

"You really think he's nearby?" Wu asks.

"We found his car. We found out Adalind procured some fake IDs."

"Where would you even begin looking?"

"I don't know, I don't have any kids, but yeah, I would imagine it would be difficult to be someplace too remote."

"If you're desperate enough, and embrace your survivalist skills, you can make it work," Monroe argues.

"We know he was desperate," Hank says.

"That's about all we know," Wu replies wryly.

"We need more information," Hank says with a sigh.

"We've got to narrow it down somehow, because there are literally probably a million places to hide around here that are the definition of remote. Well, maybe not literally, probably just thousands," Monroe amends.

Hank glances at Monroe in the review mirror. Trubel's looking at him beside her, too. It seems as though everyone expels of collective sigh at the prospect of the not insignificant task of determining where Nick and Adalind might be.

"Where do we even start?"

%%%%%

Hank and Wu are forced to leave Monroe and Trubel with the task of trying to dig up more information in the hopes of pointing them in a direction to look. They were going to go back to the shop and see if there was anything that might be gleaned from Harrek or his son, but Wu didn't seem to be optimistic, and Hank surmises they've run that particular information well dry.

They are headed back to Portland, driving late into the night so that they aren't gone from work another day, and arousing any more suspicion or curiosity about their trip. There is still the murder they landed a day ago to solve, not to mention all the others that had been piling up.

He can't help but feel a little resentful if what they're suspecting—what they're believing happened to Nick and Adalind is true.

There's a part of him that understands. He knows how important Nick's son is to him, how important his family is, how much he loves them and would do anything for them, despite the fact he rarely talks about them. He tells himself that he would expect no less, would probably do no different. He doubts Nick's life has been a walk in the park since he left Portland—having to hide to avoid discovery, likely the sense of never being able to relax, always wondering what's going to get you and how far behind you it may be.

Yet…

He gathered his family and left them all to deal with the fall out. Black Claw, the resistance. Not to mention everything Nick was in the middle of—and thus his friends were caught in the middle of, too. Maybe he thought they'd work it out, that things wouldn't be as bad as they are. Maybe he thought Renard would never become Mayor, that they'd find something that would prevent him from ever taking office.

Maybe he thought Portland would be some kind of Wesen Utopia while he was gone, instead of a nightmare for all its residents.

How much did Nick anticipate things would change in his absence? Perhaps he thought he and Wu, with Monroe and Trubel and Eve and everyone could solve the problem, except Hank's hardly been partnered with Wu in the months since Nick's been gone. Has had to deal with Orwin and his sycophantic "help." That Monroe and Rosalee are more concerned with protecting their own family and have been hesitant to offer assistance as Rosalee gets further along in her pregnancy. That they, too, have considered getting out of Portland.

Trubel's been the only one really helping as much as possible, trying to step in for Nick, but there's so much going on it's hard to keep up. Eve's dealing with the fallout of Nick using the stick on her, and it's one more slight she's had to endure for having known Nick.

Though it's not fair, Nick ditching them feels like a slight to all of them.

"Do you think Nick has any idea what we've been dealing with since he's been gone?" Wu asks him, breaking the silence.

Hank shrugs.

"Hard to miss, what with all the stories in the papers."

"Yeah, but most of that has been confined to Portland papers. I've been watching the news, and there's hardly been anything mentioned on the national news channels."

"Probably hard to know what to make of it," Hank points out.

"It's only a matter of time, though, before some news outlet picks up the story of otherworldly creatures running amok and the world descends into chaos."

"It's not already?" Hank replies.

Wu shrugs, and turns back to the window he's been looking out of, lost in his own thoughts.

"Almost a full moon," Wu notes. "A few more days."

"Are you ready?" Hank asks him, realizing he's hardly had the chance to discuss how Wu's been taking the profound change he's been subjected to.

"As I'll ever be," Wu drawls. He's silent for a moment. "It's getting easier," he says. "Whether it's because I've accepted it or just gotten used to it now."

"Probably both," Hank says and Wu nods once.

"It's a nice ability to have in a fight," he says, "especially when all we're fighting lately is Wesen."

Hank can imagine. Not that he'd ever want to be subjected to what Wu has, or Eve, but having a few extra skills would be helpful with what they're up against. He's not sure if he'd want even Nick's ability, the ability to recognize Wesen long before they show themselves, the superhuman speed and strength.

Would he go back to the way things were ten years ago, when he'd never met Nick, and had no idea what Wesen were?

So much has changed in such a short time. It's hard to classify it as for the better, though if there is going to be such a thing as Wesen, he supposes it's better now that he knows about them. Still, though he was cynical long before he met Nick, and feeling burnt out from the job, he was never so suspicious of everyone as he is now.

Zuri, Orwin—he's hesitant to accept anyone who suddenly appears in his life. Not after the way Zuri used him to get at Nick. It's best to keep them at a distance, especially since both the Captain and the mayor are circling he and Wu like dogs, ready to pounce on the first morsel of information about Nick that comes to light.

"How long do you think we can keep Nick's truck from the Mayor?"

"Well, we're helped along by the VIN number missing, that will keep it from matching the BOLO out on Nick's car for a little while, but I'd say we've got a week. Maybe two. Not sure how far and how deep the esteemed Mayor's reach is."

"I'd say a week," Hank says. "Word's going to get back, if it hasn't already, we took a trip. They've been watching our every move for months now. This is going to seem out of the ordinary. Hendrick will be looking into why we took a trip and just how it supposedly matched some details to our case down here."

"Al won't give him anything."

"He probably won't have to," Hank says.

"You think Hendrick is going to share with the mayor what he found?" Wu asks him, turning to look at him. Hank glances at him.

"Surely you've noticed things have been a little…difficult between them lately."

He has noticed. Where before Hendrick always seemed to be passing along information to Renard if not daily then weekly, there's been a noticeably cooling off on the information sharing.

"You think Renard has alienated another one of his allies?"

"How many does he still have?" Wu asks.

Hank shakes his head.

"Still more than we can keep track of," Hank says.

"Maybe we can use the acrimony to our advantage," Wu suggests.

"You think Hendrick is going to want to help us?"

"Probably not, but remember the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You think Hendrick and Renard are enemies now?"

"I don't think they're playing for the same team, anymore."

"Let's not forget, whether Hendrick agrees, or likes what Renard is doing, that he's still firmly in the Wesen resistance camp."

Wu tips his head in acknowledgement. "Something to think about though. We might be able to test the waters and see how loyal Hendrick is to the mayor anymore. We've got to do something to get him out of power. Perhaps it's time we start getting more aggressive at chipping away at all his resources."

Easier said than done. Renard's a slimy bastard. He's not so sure that even if they're successful in widening the divide between Hendrick and Renard that Renard won't anticipate their motives and just replace Hendrick with someone else they'll have to deal with. He's gone through more aides and special counselors than Hank can count, though the press has been especially helpful in noting the tally in the papers.

Renard's mayorship is something of a joke with the press, who once eager and excited to have the charismatic and earnest Portland Police captain as the steward of their fine city, have descended into cynicism and apathy at his efforts thus far. Hank and Wu and the others have been careful at how they go about finding a weakness in Renard's campaign, very conscious that they're at a disadvantage if they try to attack too aggressively and are unable to sustain the onslaught.

They need Nick if they're going to defeat Hendrick, Renard, and the Wesen who want to take over the city.

"Doesn't it piss you off?" Hank asks Wu suddenly.

"What? Renard? Hendrick?"

"All of it," Hank says. " I mean, I understand _why_ Nick left—I mean, I know how he feels about his son—"

"And Adalind," Wu breaks in.

"—And Adalind, but he had to know what he was leaving us to deal with."

"I don't know. Maybe," Wu concedes neutrally. Hank glances at him.

"Yeah, okay, it pisses me off a little bit," Wu says. "But we don't really know what was going through Nick's head when he decided to grab Adalind and Kelly and run."

"We don't?" Hank snorts.

"Well, we have a pretty good idea, but I'm sure there's more to it than just what we think we know."

"Why didn't he trust us to help him keep his son and Adalind safe. I mean, hasn't that been what we've done all along?"

Wu shakes his head.

"I don't know. I don't know what he thought about it. Maybe he thought we've done enough," Wu says.

"Maybe," Hanks says, though he's not sure he agrees with that.

"Maybe we'll never know," Wu murmurs and Hank glances at him again.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's a conscious decision he made to leave. It's a conscious decision he made to hide—I mean, apparently, he's got fake ID's, he's living a life under a completely different name. It's a conscious decision he's made to not contact any of us. He's done a damn find job of covering his tracks so that we have no idea what happened, no idea where he's gone, and no idea what he's doing."

"We have no idea if he's okay. I mean, we're just assuming, but maybe he's not," Hank says. Wu shakes his head. "Maybe he knows we're not."

Wu's quiet, considering. "Maybe," he concedes, "But that presumes he's somehow able to keep tabs on us. Who do you think Nick can turn to, to do that? We're his closest friends. That means one of us is lying about not knowing what happened to him. It's not me. I doubt it's you," he says, eyeing Hank and Hank shakes his head. "Honestly, I doubt it's any one of us."

Wu's quiet again and Hank waits, knowing he has more to say.

"I'm trying to see it from his side," Wu says, "How he must have felt, his mind set before he left. I mean, we know he went a little crazy when he lost Adalind and Kelly. I've been trying to make it sound all okay, that what he did was reasonable—I mean, there's a part of me that can see it, that can understand where he might be coming from, but there's another part—I just—I can't. He left. And I don't know what that means for us, what we do now."

Hank glances at him, Wu turned away, staring out the window again, at the moon that's nearly full.

"What are you saying?"

Wu turns to him, hesitates for a moment, as he meets his glance.

"I'm saying…if I'm right, Nick left on his own. He doesn't want to be found. He's taken a lot of steps to ensure that he _isn't_ found. So, the question is, knowing that, do we go looking?"

%%%%%


	27. Part Six - Chapter Two

AN: Sorry, guys, on the wait. Some real life drama going on. Thank you for all your reviews and likes. Hope that means you all are still enjoying.

AN2: When I first started writing this story, it was in late September, early October, of last year. Originally, as we knew at the end of season 5 that Rosalee was pregnant, I only had her pregnant with one. I was well into the story by the time Season 6 premiered in January and then later when we learned she was pregnant with triplets. There was a lot of internal debate about whether to keep it as I had written it, or change it. It it's kind of weird or awkward in that aspect, that's why.

%%%%

"You're back," Josh notes. "How'd it go? Was it them? Did you find anything?"

"Dude," Trubel says. It's too many questions, too fast, and she has hundreds of her own knocking around her brain right now. Josh looks tired and anxious, blonde curly hair askew. He's been trying to organize Nick's Grimm books, an activity mostly designed to keep himself busy and occupied, and relevant. She looks around the loft, where she and Josh and Eve have rotated staying, unable to completely desert it, given the tunnels and the last connection to Nick they have.

It's messy, food containers and wrappers, and dirty dishes covering the counter, and Trubel wants to snap at Josh to clean it up. Nick wasn't messy, or at least the women he was living with never allowed for a messy house. Juliette had been very neat and orderly and it appeared Adalind was, too.

"This place is a pigsty," Trubel notes. Though she usually avoids any extended stays, she wonders if Eve's been back to the loft at all since they've been gone, and reflects that though it seems like a long time, Trubel's only been gone a few days. But now there's a huge dividing line in that time, the time before, when they still thought Nick might be missing, that he might have been taken, or worse, dead, and the time after, when they now have proof he may has simply and purposefully disappeared.

She doesn't know what to make of it. That he would just leave and never speak to or see anyone again. It doesn't seem possible.

"Are you okay?" Josh asks quietly, moving closer and she pulls back from him, realizing her eyes are filling with tears.

"Yeah, of course, I'm fine," she says, trying to nonchalantly brush aside her tears.

"You don't look fine," he ventures. "Was it—was it that bad? Are they dead?"

She looks at Josh, biting her lip, a part of her wanting to collapse to the floor with the grief and confusion she feels over what she knows—what she thinks she knows about Nick, and Adalind and why they're gone—and the other part of her that can't and won't let someone else see how much the truth has affected her.

"No, I don't think so," she manages.

"Well, that's good, right?" Josh says after a second, obviously trying to reconcile her expression with this news.

She nods after a moment. Yes, she supposes, knowing that Nick is likely alive, that he's likely (she hopes) okay, Adalind and his son, too, is a cause for some celebration.

"We think they ditched the car sometime around or after Adalind got some fake IDs."

"What?" Josh says. He looks confused, but not, she notes, completely stunned by the news. He's been far more practical about reasons for Nick's disappearance than any of them.

"I think you were right," she says and Josh's confused look deepens. "I think he got the hell out of Portland," Trubel clarifies.

"Oh," Josh replies, brows lifting. He stares at Trubel, who moves away from him, towards the refrigerator.

"Well, you can't blame him," he says, turning to watch her scrutinize the contents of the fridge. "I mean, he's got a kid to take care of."

She nods, but though she can't, and she shouldn't blame him, for putting Kelly's well-being above all others, the truth is, she sort of does, at least the manner he went about doing it.

"He wouldn't want anything to happen to him, and from what you said, it sounds like this Black Claw and all the other were pretty interested in his son, and Nick, and using his family against him. It makes sense for him to take them and leave."

She nods.

"It does, doesn't it," she agrees, and closes the refrigerator door. She stares at it for a moment before turning to face Josh again. "So help me to understand," she tells him and the normally kind of cute confused look mars his face again.

"What?"

"It just doesn't make sense why he would stay gone. Why he wouldn't say anything to anyone. Why he doesn't care what happens to us. Why hasn't he contacted us? He has to know we'd be worried about him."

"I don't know that it's that he doesn't care, I mean, of course I think he cares, but you're talking his son. I mean, he brought him into this world. As a parent, wouldn't you do anything for your child?"

All the good ones would, she thinks, and Nick's a good dad.

"As far as contacting you guys—maybe he's not someplace safe where he can do that. Maybe he feels that the situation is too precarious to risk trying to contact anyone."

"Maybe," she murmurs, picking at the label on the beer she grabbed out of the fridge.

"So, do you know what name he's living under? How'd you find out about the fake IDs?"

"One of the leads Rosalee gave us panned out into a lead about a guy named Harrek who was the go-to person if you needed to get out of town and start a new life."

"He doesn't remember what names he gave them?"

"If he does, he can't speak of them. There's something literally preventing him from speaking about whoever came into the shop. I mean, we think it was Adalind based on what we could find out, and it would make sense, because it's some sort of spell or hex that's preventing him from being able to talk."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, Harrek's father was the one who kind of first gave us the first inclination that it was a petite Hexenbiest that did that to his son. How many petite hexenbiests are there?"

"I don't know. Thousands?" Josh guesses. Trubel gives him a flat stare.

"It was a rhetorical question."

"Oh."

"Anyway, that coupled with the car which was definitely Nick's, it seems to all point to Nick and Adalind being alive and well, and well-hidden."

"Well, that's good news."

"I suppose," Trubel says and Josh frowns.

"You didn't find anything at the car, I take it."

"Car was clean. Been there for a while, too, judging by the looks of it. Wu thinks a few months at least, so it's been abandoned by them for a while."

"You think they're in the area?"

Trubel shrugs. "I don't know," she answers honestly. "I'm not sure where they'd go. The others seem to think Nick wouldn't go anywhere populated, but do you know how many remote places there are to hide?"

"Aaaaare we talking near Seattle? Or here? Or someplace else?" Josh asks her.

"Exactly. We have no idea."

"You think they went north? Across the border?"

"I don't think so," Trubel says. "That seems to be the general consensus of the group. Monroe and I went back up to the site where the Cruiser is and hiked the trail a bit, but I don't think he and Adalind and two kids could have made it. I don't think Nick would have tried. It would have been very difficult, and very risky."

"Winter, too, up there. Risk of hypothermia and being caught in the elements."

"Not to mention a thirty plus mile hike. But if he didn't go north then where did he go?"

"Hmm."

"Where would you go?" she asks him and he starts slightly, stunned.

"What?"

"You've been saying all along that the smart thing to do was to get out of Portland. Where would you go?"

"Honestly? As far away as I could."

Trubel nods, but his answer is disheartening. She doesn't know where to search on this end of the world, no matter on the farthest reaches of it.

"Not that it would probably do any good," Josh laments. "I tried to get away from all this and it still followed me wherever I went. I'm not even a Grimm! I don't know if there's honestly a place I could go where I _could_ get away from all this. I wish there was. If you find it—if Nick's found it—email me the coordinates."

%%%%

The surprises keep coming, when, about week after they return home from Seattle, Rosalee goes into labor.

She has not one, not two, but three children—triplets, and Monroe is beside himself giddy and freaked out. Rosalee is surprisingly calm, maybe because, in the face of her husband's hyper activity she's forced to be the voice of reason, but Trubel and Josh make the journey to the hospital to join Hank and Wu, and Eve and Bud, to get their first view of the triplets.

"Can you believe it?" Bud says when he spots Trubel. Josh is squinting through the glass, trying to find the babies in question.

"No, not really," Trubel says.

"Triplets! Wow! It's incredible. They're going to be so happy!" Bud enthuses. "And, so broke. All the money on diapers and food and now they need three of everything instead of one, and that's not even considering how much sleep they'll be losing—I mean, the diaper changes, and the feedings—"

"Bud! I got it," Trubel says and Bud shrugs.

"You're right, I mean, that stuff will all work itself out," he says, though he looks skeptical. She's glad Monroe and Rosalee weren't here to hear it because that little bit right there talked Trubel out of ever having children. Especially if they come in multiples.

"Nobody knew they were having triplets?" Josh says, momentarily pulled away from his search.

Bud shook his head and Trubel shrugs.

"No, apparently the other two were there, just, somehow they missed it. Synchronized heartbeats, I think the doctor said."

"Hm," Josh replies.

"Did you find them yet?" Trubel asks Josh and he shakes his head.

"Right there," Bud says, pointing, and Trubel and Josh look where he's indicating.

"Two girls and one boy," he says, and Trubel finally makes out two pink caps and one blue towards the third row.

"Did they name them yet?" she asks Bud and Bud shakes his head.

"Uh, no, that was still the subject of some heated debate I understand."

"Where's Hank and Wu and the others?"

"In Rosalee's room, I think."

"How's she doing?"

"Good. Good, good, good."

"Good," Trubel says, and turns back to the newborns.

Everyone stares at the babies for a moment, watching one of the nurses tend to one.

"Kind of sad Nick couldn't be here to see it, you know. Given how close he and Monroe were. A—and-and Adalind. I'm sure she would have enjoyed it, too," Bud remarks after a moment.

It's just an observation, but it hits the wrong away and Trubel has to move away from the window to get control of herself.

Nick likely had no idea Rosalee was pregnant when he left. She wonders if it would have made a difference. She thinks, maybe it could have, but his decision to excise himself from their lives has left a gaping hole where Nick should be. Bud's right, Nick would likely be very happy for Monroe. Maybe he would impart some wisdom from one new(ish) father to another. Adalind would have loved it, too, glad to have someone to share in the loneliness she sometimes detected from her as a mother caring for her child at home while Nick was away for hours and hours at a time. Maybe there would have been opportunities for all the children to bond, have play dates together, and birthday parties, and everything else that children and friends and families experience.

She's surprised to discover she would look forward to it, had it been an option.

All that's gone, unless they can find Nick.

She understands Nick's decision—she does—but she can't help the flash of resentment she feels whenever she thinks upon, especially a situation like this. Does he know what leaving has left for the rest of them? How it affected them? Though she knows Hank's probably right, that Nick's life now on the run is likely anything but fun, she can't help but feel a little bit that he's escaped all the consequences of everything that happened right before he left.

"That's not fair," Josh says quietly, when she dares to voice the opinion out loud. He's far more understanding and forgiving of Nick's decision than most of them. "He was forced to make a choice over his family's safety. You would have done the same thing in his shoes."

Would she? She doesn't know. She always felt she was a part of the family Nick had created for himself. One of the group, but maybe what stings so much is that when push came to shove it turns out they _weren't_ a part of Nick's family after all.

That's also probably not fair, but she tucks those thoughts away, and follows a blathering Bud and Josh down the hall to Rosalee's room.

"Did you see them?" Monroe says the _second_ they enter.

"Yeah, we did," she says. She glances at the other occupants, Hank, Wu, Monroe and Eve all packed in to one side, as they make room for the newcomers.

"Can you believe it? _Three_ of them! Oh, man, I can't—I don't—Wow, I don't even know what to say."

"That's a first," Hank says with a grin.

"You can say congratulations, or thank you Rosalee," Rosalee says tiredly. She smiles at Trubel. "Hey Trubel, Josh."

"Hi," Josh says. "Congratulations," he adds, glancing at Monroe and holding out a ridiculous stuffed yellow duck and a bunch of balloons. He sets it on the ledge near the window.

"Thank you. See how easy that was?" she says to her husband.

"Well I mean—of course, thank you. I mean, this is better than anything I ever dreamed! And a little scarier, too, I mean. There's three of them. We need to get so much stuff! We only have one crib. And one car seat. And oh my god! I need a bigger car! You need a bigger car! Where are we going to put them?" he exclaims, glancing anxiously at Rosalee.

"I was just remarking on the same thing to Trubel," Bud says, and Trubel elbows him to shut up.

"Monroe, relax," Hank says.

"We'll take care of making sure you have everything you need for them by the time you come home," Eve says.

"Yeah, you helped Nick and Adalind get everything together. We can help you," Wu says.

There's a noticeable pall that settles over the room briefly at the mention of Nick's name.

"Nick, man. Wow. Did he miss it," Monroe laments after a moment, trying for a chuckle. "I was such a mess."

"He wasn't much better," Rosalee says, smiling faintly.

"Oh, yeah. He was terrified," Bud agrees. "He didn't even want to go into the delivery room he was so scared, but Rosalee and I made him."

Rosalee's smile widens slightly at the memory. Likely, given the mother of his child, and his relationship to her at the time, Trubel could understand the initial hesitancy.

"He was so nervous though when they kicked him out of the delivery room. He must have worn a hole in the floor he was pacing so much."

"They kicked him out? Why?"

"Adalind had complications with the baby. They had to do an emergency C-section, but everything turned out okay."

"Everything went okay with you?" Trubel asks worriedly.

"Yeah, everything was fine, other than when I pushed out the first one they said, 'hold on, there's more.'"

"Yeah, I mean, you can't believe how I felt when I heard that."

"How you felt?" Rosalee retorts. "I was one the one pushing them out. It doesn't get easier with more of them."

"Right, right, right, of course honey. You did great." Monroe placates.

"Do they have names?"

"One of them does. Emilia Rose, but we still need a name for the boy and the other girl. _Not_ Claudia," Rosalee adds when Monroe opens his mouth.

"What's wrong with Claudia?" Trubel says and glances at everyone questioningly when they all shake their heads furtively.

"Don't get them started," Hank says.

"Apparently Claudia is synonymous with Bitch," Wu says.

"Oh, yeah," Trubel says. "I knew a Claudia once. Yeah, total B."

"See?"

"How about Claude for the boy?" Monroe says after rolling his eyes in conceit.

"No," Rosalee says. "Seriously, we've gone through every baby book we have. Anybody else have any suggestions?"

"Well, I mean, Nick named his son after his mother," Bud points out uncomfortably, with a glance at Eve. "Is there someone in your family you'd like to honor?"

"What about Freddy, after your brother?" Eve suggests, Rosalee tips her head, considering.

"Or Eddie," Hank says.

"Hmm, that could work," Monroe says. "Edward is a name long associated with royalty and nobility. It means "wealthy guardian. Or how about Edvard for the old—"

"Edward's fine," Rosalee interrupts.

"Okay," Monroe says. "What about a middle name?"

"Lot's of people use the mother's maiden name as a middle name," Wu points out.

"Edward Calvert?" Monroe says scrunching his nose up. "I like it," he adds quickly at Rosalee's look.

"Okay, that's two down," Hank says. "Now we just need one more girl's name."

"They both start with "E," Bud notes. "Are we looking for another "E" name?"

"Do we want all our children's names to start with the same letter?" Rosalee asks Monroe.

"Why not?" he says with a shrug.

"Elizabeth?" Josh suggests. Everyone soon follows suit with suggestions.

"Evelyn?"

"Edie?"

"Eileen?"

"Eleanor?"

"Emma?" Trubel suggests.

"Emma," Rosalee repeats, trying it out. "Is it too close to Emilia you think?"

"Emma-It's German in origin. Means all-embracing, or complete."

"Well, she was the last baby born and she completed our family," Rosalee says.

"Emma it is," Monroe announces, and Rosalee smiles at him.

"Good suggestion."

"Now that that's settled, we better let you rest," Eve says and Rosalee flicks her eyes to her. She does look exhausted, but then, she just gave birth to three children, too, Trubel reasons.

"We'll stop by tomorrow after we get off shift," Hank says.

"When's the doctor letting you go home?" Trubel asks.

"Maybe tomorrow, but it might be one more day," Rosalee says.

"Don't worry about anything—we'll take care that everything's ready when you bring them home," Eve says and Rosalee nods.

"Thanks."

%%%%

Apparently the _we_ in that statement constitutes Trubel, Eve, and Josh mostly. Hank and Wu volunteer to procure two more baby seats, and Bud mentions something about baby blankets and his wife that Trubel doesn't quite catch, but the rest of it all falls to them and Trubel's mostly clueless as to where to start.

"So—what do we need?" she says, looking at Josh. "Beds right? Cribs? Bassinets? Both?"

"I made a list," Eve says, handing them each a paper, and Trubel glances down in bewilderment. It's a rather long list, and Trubel glances up again at Eve.

"All this stuff?"

"Yes, I figured we can divide it out between the three of us."

"Where am I supposed to find – what is a _wearable blanket?_ Is that like a snuggie for babies?" she asks Eve. "Do babies wear them that young?"

"Yes," Eve replies.

"Uhhhh…how am I supposed to pay for this? You guys aren't exactly paying me to be a researcher," Josh asks.

"Monroe says it okay if I hire temporary help at the shop," Eve replies. "I'll advance your first paycheck."

"Uh, thanks," Josh says.

Trubel glances down the list. "Are you sure they need all this stuff?"

"Yes," Eve replies and Trubel looks at her. She doesn't ask how or why. She doesn't think Kelly had half of this stuff, but then again, she never took inventory. The loft was (and is, she reminds herself) minimally furnished, but Kelly can lay claim to having the most stuff in it. Bassinet, crib, changing table, portable playpen, stroller, car seat, and a newly acquired high-chair, rarely used in the time Nick and Adalind had it—she understands babies require a lot of gear, but even then, she doesn't think it's near as much as what's on this list.

"Remember, we're buying for two more, but we don't need three of everything."

"No, this here says we six," Trubel says, reading another item off her list. "Six, really?"

Eve gives her a flat stare and Trubel lets it go.

%%%%%

Rosalee and Monroe bring the triplets home a day later and for the first few weeks their life is busy trying to juggle their multiple responsibilities and figure out a routine. Trubel doesn't see much of them, some by design, some by circumstance. She's not trying to avoid them too much, but she's not sure what she can do to help them—having no experience with young children and no desire to offer her services baby-sitting, and asking them for help on Wesen matters seems especially in poor taste given how much they're struggling to juggle the demands of caring for three infants.

Their house looks like a baby store exploded and Rosalee is exhausted, short, and snippy to everyone, which she supposes is to be expected, but she also seems disengaged, and Trubel's not sure what post-partum depression looks like, but she wonders if that isn't a factor playing into some of her behavior.

She finds Eve at the spice shop, where she spends most of her waking hours. She's seated on a stool behind the counter, flipping through a pile of books. She's not sure what went on while she and Monroe were in Washington, but she's curious as to the reasons behind Eve's altruism.

She's not sure if she can even call the offer to keep an eye on the shop and help out the business altruistic. Yes, Eve's doing it without pay, but she's also using the alone time to her advantage.

Eve's been using the time in the shop to more thoroughly research the books for a solution to her fluctuating powers problem. The boosters have helped, but they don't seem to be indicating a permanent solution. Trubel's somewhat surprised at how hard she's clinging to her abilities and life as Hexenbiest, but given the conversation she and Eve had maybe it shouldn't be as much of a shock.

"Hey," Trubel says when Eve looks up as the bell over the door chimes.

"Hey," Eve says.

"Everything going okay?" They're the only ones in the shop and Eve's taken the lull in the business to spread out a bunch of ancient and freaky looking texts.

"Is that a skull?" she asks, pointing to the cover of one.

"Yes."

"What are those?"

"I found some of Adalind's mother's books tucked away in the loft," Eve says.

"Oh. Any luck?"

"No," Eve says with a sigh. "It's taken me this long just to figure out how to get it open."

"Hexenbiest blood didn't work?" She looks up at Eve, wondering if it's gotten so bad, that her blood is no longer concentrated enough to constitute as Wesen. That would mean she's definitely becoming human again.

"No, this one required Hexenbiest blood _and_ an incantation."

Or maybe not.

"Oh," Trubel says, looking down at the book again. She lifts it up and stares at the spine. She has no idea what language it's in—it doesn't look like German, at least not the German she's distantly familiar with.

"What language is this?"

"Some variation of ancient German, I think."

"Really?" Trubel says. "Are the spells all written in it?"

Eve flicks her eyes up at Trubel. "Yes, it appears that way."

"Swell. You must be having fun."

"Not really," Eve says with a sigh. "I could really use Monroe's or Rosalee's help."

"Or Adalind's," Trubel says looking at the books. "They're her mother's, she'd probably know something about them."

"How are Hank and Wu?" Eve says, not acknowledging the remark.

"Busy. Wu's says things are weird. They think something big is going down," Trubel tells her.

"At the station?"

"With Renard," Trubel says. She picks up another open book and looks at it, thumbing through the pages absently. It's at least written in a German she's can recognize, though not overly familiar with.

Eve looks up again, considering.

"The press have been alluding to cover ups in his campaign."

"Yup, the tide is turning," Trubel says, though it doesn't feel like that.

"Just because the love affair between the media and Renard might be over, doesn't mean things are going to get better. I think they're going to get worse."

"Well, aren't you just the glass is half-empty."

"Renard's smart. If the press have found something, he's not going down without a fight. The press might have him in their crosshairs, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have them in his."

"You hear anything more from him?" Trubel asks her. She knows Renard approached Eve about switching sides, but as far as she knows that's been the only contact Eve's had. It has long been discussed between Trubel and Eve and Josh about whether Eve should take him up on his offer so they might be able to gain some inside information, but Eve's understandably concerned with his expectation of exploiting the powers she may no longer possess, and what he might do with that knowledge.

"No. He's said his piece, now it's my turn to make the decision. So much time has passed, though, that if I were to take him up on his offer now, he'd be suspicious."

"He's going to be suspicious, no matter what. Doesn't seem like he trusts anybody."

"No, he doesn't," Eve agrees.

"The Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester," Trubel reads, flipping a few more pages. "Isn't that the spell you used to turn into Renard?" She pauses, remembering.

"And the spell Adalind used to turn into me," Eve says coolly.

"And the spell they used to turn you into her." Yes, that was the other detail she remembered. God, how does Nick keep it all straight?

The spell that started everything.

"Are you thinking that using it again might overcome what Nick's stick did to you?"

Eve shakes her head.

"I don't think so. I don't think it will be as simple as doing everything that led to my becoming a hexenbiest all over again. I mean, we reversed the spell to undo what she did, and look what happened."

"Maybe you don't need a spell or a potion," Trubel says. "Maybe all you need is time."

"It's been almost a year," Eve returns. "It's time I start to accept that whatever it did isn't going to reverse itself over time. I'm hoping there's something in here that can get me back the way I was."

"Which you are we talking about? Because it sounds like we're talking about Eve," Trubel says.

"We are."

"Is that what you want?"

"Yes," Eve says after a moment. "I really don't think I can live with myself as anyone else."

Trubel wonders if Eve's still thinking of leaving. She wonders if the triplets will give her new reasons to stay. If Rosalee will give her new opportunities to stay. If Eve sees herself somehow fitting into this new dynamic.

She finds she's hopeful she does. The knowledge that Nick knowingly and willingly left them behind burns deep in her gut. Trubel tells herself she understands it—it was Adalind and Kelly and she knows he would do anything for them, even apparently start a new life somewhere, but unreasonable or not, she can't help but feel that the decisions to leave demonstrate how little she factors in to people's lives.

It hurts.

These people—the people that Nick introduced to her—are her friends, they are her family, and they mean the world to her. It's knocks the breath out when the realization hits that it's all one-sided.

She's lost her parents, foster parents, Nick, Meisner, and now both Eve and Rosalee and Monroe are threatening to bolt.

She can't take one more loss, and it's this that's instilling a weird kind of fury in her to find Nick and drag him bodily back to Portland if necessary. Adalind and Kelly, too. She's tired of fighting a fight on multiple fronts and losing half the time, and she's tired of people she loves being taken away.

"You really think you'll find something in here?"

"Maybe," Eve says. "Adalind found a way to regain her powers."

"Is that what you're looking for?"

"I don't know. Something like it. I don't know what I'm looking for."

"Adalind probably would," Trubel remarks and meets Eve's cool gaze.

"Probably," she agrees after a second.

Trubel lays the spell book back down onto the table.

"Maybe Rosalee can help?"

"I doubt it. I think we've exhausted everything Rosalee might know about or have in the shop, but she's going to be busy with the triplets for a while and I don't want to bother her with it right now. She's got her own problems to deal with."

"How's she doing?"

"Okay," Eve says. "I think they're finally getting a handle on some of it. Seems like they have a routine established."

"That's good."

"Rosalee keeps talking about leaving, though."

"That's bad," Trubel says.

"She's overwhelmed," Eve says.

"No kidding."

"Her mother and sister offered to come down but with everything going on and the Renard back to surveilling us again, she's afraid something might happen to them, so she told them to stay home."

"You think they'll leave?" Trubel asks Eve after a moment.

Eve's quiet.

"I don't know," Eve says finally. "Things are getting bad."

"Things are getting bad everywhere."

"Black Claw has suffered some serious setbacks. You said there has been progress made in Asia, and parts of Europe, and without Bonaparte they're still searching for a leader to unite them, and now there's more and more in-fighting over who that leader should be. Given enough time, they'll start to defeat themselves."

"If Nick were here, we could defeat them faster. Renard, too," Trubel counters. "We need Nick if we're going to stop Wesen from taking over Portland."

"Renard has it out for him. It's not like, even if we did find him, even if we did convince him to come back to Portland, that he's going to waltz right into the police station a detective again."

"Things are getting bad for Renard, too. He could use Nick right now. Why do you think he propositioned you? He needs help."

"I doubt he's going to accept Nick's, not after he took off with his daughter. Besides, if he gets his daughter back he won't need Nick's help."

"That means we need to find Nick before Renard does."

%%%%


	28. Part Six - Chapter Three

AN: If this chapter is painful to read, that's because it was painful to write. Oy-vey.

%%%%%

"Okay, that's the last one," Monroe says, breathing a sigh of relief as he picks up his youngest—by nine minutes—daughter up from the floor. "Three freshly diapered babies." He grins at his wife who flashes a wan smile. His own falters.

She's exhausted, though it's to be expected after having three children. These last few weeks have been difficult, though he finally feels as though there's a light at the end of the tunnel. They're starting to establish a schedule, developing a routine, and Monroe finally feels like he's getting the hang of being the father of three children.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just tired," she says.

It's her go to answer for most things, but he can't argue that she must be. Still he feels like there is more going on there than she's saying.

"Well, why don't you take a nap?" he suggests. "Everyone's fed and happy. They'll probably sleep here soon, too. I think I've got a handle on things here."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," she says, offering another pale smile. She climbs slowly up the stairs and disappears in their room, closing the door softly behind her.

He looks back down at his children, all swaddled in two pink and blue blanket. Eddie and Emilia are on the verge of sleep, but Emma's still wriggling, fighting her folds and Monroe bounces her slightly before remembering what happened the last time he did that.

"Guess it's just you and me," he says. "We've got to figure out what to do about mommy," he adds. "I know you just met her, but she doesn't seem like herself."

He glances up above him worriedly before looking down again. She hasn't seemed like herself for a long time, and he knows she was struggling to demonstrate her enthusiasm for their pregnancy. The current atmosphere of the city affected her deeply, not to mention the loss of Nick and Adalind and Kelly.

Nick.

He stares down at his daughter, mentally cataloguing her every mole or freckle.

"You haven't met your uncle Nick yet, but when you do—don't be afraid. You'll hear stories about Grimms, how they ravaged villages, and laid waste to Wesen for centuries, but your Uncle Nick is actually a pretty cool guy. Your dad here was the first Blutbad he ever saw. The first wesen he befriended. I'm living proof that not all Grimms are bad. Nick's one of the good ones. So is Trubel, so you don't have to worry about anything, because between your mom and me, and Trubel and Nick and the others there's not anything on this earth that's going to get to you. I wish your mom would believe that."

He's not sure though, if that's the only thing that's bugging her—the safety of her children. She's mentioned a few times about moving, and he would have thought with the arrival of triplets instead of one child, that that argument would have amped up, but surprisingly she's fallen silent on the subject over the last few weeks which has him doubly concerned. She's seems to be losing interest in almost everything, and for the first time he has to acknowledge that something isn't right with Rosalee.

He has a dozen pamphlets from their visits to the obstetrician, and one of them is a leaflet on post-partum depression. He had skimmed through while they were waiting at the doctor's office, but now he's inclined to dig it out and read it more thoroughly. He had thought when the babies were born she would be okay—they've got everything they ever dreamed of and more—and yeah, the climate in Portland could be better, but many wesen have raised their children in questionable times and been okay.

His thoughts flick back to Nick and the quandary they're now in with what to do about him.

The evidence is pointing to Nick voluntarily disappearing, something that seems dumbfounding to Monroe given everything that Nick's stood for. Then again, given everything that's happened to Nick when he did stand up for something it's really not that hard to wrap his head around it, and that's also causing some stress, because on the one hand—he can really get where Nick was coming from when he left. Looking around at his own new family—there's not anything he wouldn't do to keep them safe, and if leaving ground zero meant the safety and security of his family, he would be gone yesterday.

But there's the other part of him that just can't believe that's exactly what Nick did. And perhaps it's more accurate to say, he's not angry about Nick leaving, he's angry about Nick leaving and staying gone—utterly gone—without a trace, or a phone call, or a letter so much as saying goodbye and that he and Adalind and their kids are okay.

 _That's_ what burns. The absolute silence that has followed his absence. It's like he's forgotten about them. He knows things are bad—they were horrible even before Nick left—wanted by black Claw, Renard, and everyone else for murder and who else knows what, so he can understand the hesitation to let someone know where he is, lest the wrong people find out. Still, he thinks about everything Nick has missed, not just Portland deteriorating, but Rosalee becoming pregnant, and them having triplets, and little things like Eve's transformation into Juliette and back again, Renard ascending to power and it all becoming a clusterfuck for him as he struggles to maintain order not only in the city but within his own ranks.

He wonders if Rosalee would have struggled with her pregnancy and motherhood had Adalind been here for her to share it with, voice her concerns and questions. There's been a loss deeply felt there, too, with Kelly and Adalind gone. He wonders how Kelly is doing, is he still normal, or have they seen anything that might clue them in as to which parent he's going to take after? He wonders how things are going with Adalind's daughter, if they're some big happy family now, two hexenbiests, a Grimm, and a hexengrimm baby, and not a care in the world. Except it can't be easy, having to hide what they are, who they are, knowing that the authorities could descend upon them any moment, and he really wonders if life is any better for Nick than it would have been had he stayed in Portland with friends and allies that would have helped.

He realizes with a jolt Kelly's celebrated his first birthday already. He tries to think how old Kelly would be now—old enough to be walking and talking, he thinks, and he wonders what that was like for Nick, to hear his first word, see his first steps, and what other milestones he might have achieved.

He didn't get a lot of time to spend with Kelly—he was usually in the care of his mother, and rarely Rosalee, but he misses Nick's son and the opportunities his children have to become friends in a new generation with Nick's child.

All the possibilities, gone, without a trace. Literally.

"When I see your Uncle Nick, I'm going to kick his ass."

He looks down at his daughter, finally asleep, and carefully places her in the bassinet beside her siblings'.

Now the question is, knowing that Nick and Adalind made conscious decisions to leave and stay gone, do they respect that decision or do they pursue their whereabouts?

And if they pursue, where do they even start?

%%%%%

"Hey," Monroe says, when he enters the shop and spies Eve. He's checking in, Rosalee manning the parenting duties solo for a couple of hours. She seemed more herself, still tired, but a glimpse of the old Rosalee under the dark circles and baggie eyes.

"Hey yourself," she says, looking up from what she's doing before returning to it. There's a pile of open books spread across the counter and Monroe frowns, trying to figure out what they are.

"Hank and Wu have a case they need help on?" he asks her. He hasn't seen much of anyone since the triplets came home, and he finds he misses them all. It's very solitary, even with Rosalee a partner, to be parenting an infant, much less three.

"No, not that I'm aware of," Eve says, and he finds himself slumping slightly in disappointment.

"What's all this?" He flips up a book to see the cover and grimaces when he encounters a skull embedded in it.

"Catherine Schade's spell books."

"Adalind's mother? What is it you're trying to find?"

"A spell to help me," Eve says curtly.

"Right. The stick messed up the hexenbiest thing, right?" he asks.

"Yes," she says, and Monroe nods looking around the shop.

"And you want to _stay_ a hexenbiest?" he asks.

"I don't want to live in limbo," she says, with another flash of her eyes.

"I can understand that," he replies, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Just kind of, you know, surprising, that you would want to be one, after, you know, when you became one when you clearly _didn't_ want to be one."

Eve flashes another look up at him, lips thinning.

"I'm just saying, I mean, you were pretty adamant about wanting it reversed, pronto, and pretty angry when we couldn't find anything to do that."

"I know," she says.

"I mean, you tried to kill me," he adds with a touch of irritation, and she looks up again slowly, meeting his eyes. "And a bunch of other people. I mean, Nick—you—" he motions, miming a gun.

"I know," she says again, more softly. "I'm sorry," she adds after a moment.

 _Sorry?_ He wants to say, but doesn't. He supposes it will have to be enough that she's acknowledging the regret. The Eve of old certainly wouldn't, and Hexenbiest Juliette definitely wasn't sorry when it happened. He doesn't know who this apology is coming from, the current Eve, the pre-wesen Juliette, both or someone else entirely. Instead he shrugs, a rather inane response given the discussion of his own mortality, and her role in it, but he's not sure what else to do.

He knows Rosalee already gave Eve a piece of her mind about what happened, but he finds he doesn't have the energy to revisit it. There's a part of him that understands some of her reaction—she was sucked into their world rather unknowingly at first with her association with Nick and she tried very hard to make the best of it, be supportive and understanding of something that's hard for outsiders to understand. Then, for her efforts, she's dealt a cruel joke of fate by becoming one. Then an even crueler one when she realizes that everything she dreamed of having with Nick was had with Nick by someone else, someone who personally dealt her more than one blow.

"I was—" she starts haltingly, apparently feeling like she owes him an explanation. He's not sure he wants to hear it, but curiosity wins out and he remains silent, letting her speak.

"There's no excuse for what I did," she says. "What I did to Nick, you, everyone, but I was so—furious—and I don't even know who I'm angry at the most. For a while I thought it was you guys, for everything that happened. Nick. Adalind. But now I think it's myself. Even if you guys never do, I know I'll never be able to forgive what I did, but if I'm going to do something meaningful with my life going forward, I need to move on. I can't go back to being Juliette. I just can't. Too much has changed to be that person again. I don't want all the baggage, and the expectations, that come with it. Juliette is done, and it seems like false hope if I even consider being that person again. I'm never going to be the Juliette you all loved again. Too much has happened for any of you to look at me and not see that other Juliette, who did those things."

He wants to tell her, even as Eve he still sees that Juliette—both those Juliettes, but there's a part of him that understands that in order for her to move forward, that she needs to leave that identity behind. He knows a lot about starting over—being someone wholly different than who he was. There's a certain expectation of acceptable behavior as Juliette, she's right. Too much of their opinion is influenced by those who knew her then.

He can't imagine, given how confusing it is for him, for all of them, to know who they're dealing with, how confusing it must be for her to figure out who she is, or who she's going to be, particularly in light of the influx of emotions that surfaced once the stick brought down the wall she had stored them behind.

"So you're going to stay Eve? If you stay a hexenbiest?"

"Yes," she says, looking back down at the books spread out. He wonders if her plan is to try to rebrick the wall around her emotions. But what happens if there's another crack in the foundation? Perhaps it's best to deal with the feelings and the regrets and the anger and the guilt. What does burying it do, but what it's doing now? Surfacing at the most inopportune times.

"Maybe a new improved Eve," he says. "One who's in touch and comfortable with her emotions, maybe?"

"Emotions just get in the way."

"Emotions are what make you human, and even though you might be wesen now, you're still human, too, no matter how much you want to deny that part of yourself. It's straddling that line that's the most difficult part for every wesen who comes to terms with what they are. Trust me, everyone was awed by the badass, government trained, Eve, but I think we'd all be just fine with a less structured, unfeeling version."

"That training was the only thing that got me through," Eve says, voice gravelly. "I didn't want to live. I didn't want to feel, and I didn't know how to move forward from what I've done. And that thing—that stick has put me right back at the beginning."

"I don't think _right_ back. Is it a setback? Yeah, maybe, I don't know. Time will tell, I think, but what you see as a horrible blow—this might be your opportunity to straddle the line between two worlds and two people and move forward into one."

"You really think after everything I did that we can all be friends again?" she asks sardonically. "You really believe everyone is just going to forgive and forget?"

"I don't know," Monroe says honestly. "Forget? No, probably not, but memories fade. Forgive? Maybe. We've all done things we're not proud of. Are all of them as bad as some of the things you've done? Depends on who you ask, I guess. Either way, after everything that's happened, I can say I'm more willing to find out."

Eve bites her lip.

"Why?"

He shrugs, feeling out of his element.

"Because…because we've already lost Nick, and Adalind. Because the group is in danger of splintering even more, and I just don't think right now I can take one more loss. Because Rosalee and I have three children to figure out how to care for, and it feels like we're all just barely hanging on anyway. Because, you're good in a fight, and you've helped us. Because…because," he finishes.

Eve's silent for a long moment, staring down at the books and avoiding his gaze.

"What if I can't get figure this out, and the hexenbiest is gone? What would you do if you were never a Blutbad again?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Truthfully, in some ways it would make my life easier, but in others…I mean, yes, I'm a Blutbad, but I'm not _only_ a Blutbad. There's more to me than just being wesen."

"What if there isn't more to me than Eve?"

"Have you ever allowed yourself to be anything but Eve?" She shakes her head. "Exactly. Maybe you should try to figure that part of yourself out. You might be surprised."

"We don't have time for me to go on some soul-searching expedition. We need—I need—to figure this out, because the time's coming where we're going to have to do something about what's going on here in Portland."

"You mean fight?"

"Possibly. Probably. Things are coming to a head and I need to be ready to make that jump, help Trubel and you, and Hank and Wu and Rosalee. We're going to need every able body we have."

"We're going to need Nick."

Eve meets his eyes.

"Adalind, too, probably," he adds quietly. Eve nods once, slightly, in acknowledgement. "Which makes it even more imperative we figure out where they are." Eve nods again. "Any idea where to start? Seriously, is there a spell in here that might reverse whatever Adalind did to Harrek's son? Then we might be able to get some information we can work with."

"I don't know," she says. "If we can get me back up to speed again, we might have a shot of doing that. Some of these spells though, most are in German, some an old dialect of it, but others—There might be, it's just a matter of interpreting it, and some of this is in a language I barely recognize, much less understand."

"Languages are my thing, let me take a look," Monroe says, holding his hands out for one of the books and after a second Eve places one in it.

%%%%

"Oh my god," Monroe says, rubbing his eyes.

"I know," Eve replies with a long sigh.

"What time is it?" he asks, inhaling through his fingers as he finished with his eyes and rubbed his face.

"Four o'clock," Eve says.

"Four?" he yelps.

"Yeah, why? Rosalee?"

Monroe nods, fishing out his phone and looking at it, but there's been no missed calls; no texts. What should be relief is the opposite and he wonders worriedly what the silence means? Is Rosalee okay? Are his children? Has she been managing the care of three infants all by herself?

"Maybe…Maybe I should call her?" he says. What if she's sleeping? What if his children need assistance and Rosalee…isn't feeling well enough to assist them.

"How's Rosalee doing?" Eve asks softly.

"Fine. I mean, she's exhausted, of course. You know, and that makes her a little short with everyone." Everyone being him, since most everyone else has been giving them a wide berth. Hank had said he intended to back off on asking for help with Wesen cases, and so far, disappointingly, Monroe finds, he's made good on that promise.

"I'm sure it's been tough getting used to all the new demands on her. And you."

He nods again, and licks his lips, debating.

"Does Rosalee…I mean, does she seem a little…disengaged to you?" he asks, wanting someone to tell him he's just imagining things, or that she's tired, and things will get better.

"Yes," Eve says.

He feels disappointment hit him like a physical blow. It had been what he had been thinking, that she needed help. That things weren't right. The Rosalee he'd married wanted children, would be so excited to be a mother, and the one that was currently posing as his wife was far from that person he envisioned.

"I thought when she got pregnant, she'd be so excited, you know? I mean, I was, but it never felt like she got there. And then I thought, once the babies were born, it'll finally hit, but now…I think it might be worse. I keep hoping, I'll wake up each morning and find the woman I married again. I never thought I would see her like this. Do you think she's depressed?"

"Yes."

"About Nick…and Adalind being gone?"

"I'm sure that's some of it," Eve says. "She seems to miss Nick, of course, and Adalind especially, but I don't think that's all of it."

"I thought, after the baby—babies—were born it would get better."

"It still could," Eve says. "She's overwhelmed, that's not helping, but she'll start getting a better handle on it as time goes by. The situation in Portland isn't helping. Wesen on Wesen violence is still incredibly high, and the situation with Renard, and Nick, and our association with both makes things incredibly difficult. Plus, she's naturally concerned about what kind of environment she'll be raising her children in, but I think some of it can be due to fluctuations in hormones, too. She might need to see a doctor."

Monroe nods, wondering how he can broach the subject with Rosalee. She's been snappish and defensive at times when he's ventured to voice a few concerns. He doesn't think his observation that she's not happy will be well-received, but he's not sure how much longer he can go on seeing her struggle day in and day out to pretend she's okay. And he doesn't think, in the long run, trying to wait it out or hoping it gets better is good for their children.

%%%%

His call to Rosalee is brief. He can hear one of the triplets crying in the background and Rosalee sounds distracted as she barely acknowledges his apologies for losing track of time. He promises he's on his way home, and he dips his head to Eve in a goodbye as he says this and she reciprocates in understanding. She's been manning the spice shop for a few weeks now, so he's not worried about her closing up shop and locking up.

He mulls over his conversation with Eve—not the one about what she's going to do—what identity she's going to assume—but the one about Rosalee and the fact that she sees it to, that things aren't normal.

He arrives home and finds the house in disarray. Baby wipes, towels, blankets, diapers (unused, thank god) strewn about the floor and two more triplets have joined the fray, crying loudly. He reaches for one, his son, and plucks him from the bassinet and turns and finds Rosalee awkwardly trying to soothe their daughters in her arms.

He's not sure how she managed to get two in her hands at the same time, it's quite the acrobatic feat to properly hold one, but she looks frazzled and worn and when she spots Monroe she moves toward him.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," he says again. She bends down, perpendicular to the floor, each arm carefully grasping a baby and lowers one into one bassinet, and then the other, both still crying.

"I can't deal with this," she says, and Monroe's brow dips.

"The crying?" he asks, because it seems like there's something else there she's saying—or not saying—and he doesn't like what it's hinting at.

"All of it," she says and she's out the door and down the sidewalk before he can even acknowledge what she's said.

"Rosalee? Rosalee!" he shouts, and immediately shushes when his son cries.

He feels panicky, staring at three crying children and a wife who's disappeared, or walked out, or he doesn't even know, but the first thing he needs to do is find Rosalee.

Except the first thing he really needs to do is take care of his children.

%%%%

The actual first thing he does is call everyone he knows in a panic.

"Rosalee's gone!"

He hangs up before anyone can get a word in edgewise, not realizing how it might sound to his friends, or maybe, more accurately, not caring, just so long as it gets them there as soon as possible.

Hank and Wu arrive first, Eve a close second, and Trubel and Josh are nipping at their heels.

Then he's stuck with the chaos that ensues as everyone tries to determine what exactly happened, with everyone talking over everyone else, and the triplets crying adding to the cacophony.

"She left, okay?" Monroe shouts over the roar, and everone quiets. "She just like—I don't know, but she just laid the girls down in their bassinets and said she couldn't do this and walked out the door to god knows where! A little help here!" he adds, indicating the crying infants, and Wu reaches for one and Eve another and Trubel wrinkles her nose, overwhelmed.

"I can help you find Rosalee," she offers.

"We can put out a BOLO for her."

"She can't have gone far," Eve interjects. "There's a park across the street, and another one a few blocks down. There's that café we always used to go to—before—" she stutters, alluding to when she was Juliette, "she's probably nearby."

"She hasn't been doing well, has she?" Trubel says and Monroe shakes his head.

"She needs help," he says. "I'm just not sure how receptive to it she's going to be."

"Wu, Josh and Eve can stay here and take care of the babies."

"I want to help look for Rosalee," Eve says, shaking her head.

"You're the only one of us that knows anything about babies," Trubel replies.

"Hey, I know a lot about babies," Wu says.

"I know. That's why I said you can stay here," Hank replies.

"Do you know anything about babies?" Trubel asks Josh and Josh shrugs. "I'm know which end to hold," Josh replies and Monroe looks at him.

"We'll be fine," he assures. "I can teach you how to hold one," he says to Trubel.

"I know how to hold a baby," she says. "It's the other stuff I'm not exactly excited to learn about."

"You fight wesen everyday. This can't be anything worse than what you've seen with that."

"You'd think so, but it can. If Nick were here, I think he'd back me up on this."

"Fine, Wu, Josh and Trubel and I can stay here with the babies."

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Monroe asks nervously.

"We'll be fine," Wu promises. "Go find Rosalee."

"Can you track her scent?" Eve asks him.

"Yeah, I think so." They step out onto the porch and Monroe tests the air, a few short sniffs, followed by a handful of longer ones. They set off in the direction Monroe's nose is indicating, the park across the street.

It's getting dark and Monroe's steps quicken, Eve keeping pace just behind him. He's brought up short when they clear a patch of woods and find Rosalee sitting on a bench just off one of the jogging paths. For the first time he really sees how unhappy she looks, how unkempt, and how fragile. She's staring blankly ahead of her, the wind blowing a messily gathered up-do about her. Monroe takes another few steps and stops, unsure how to proceed.

"Rosalee," he says in a gravelly voice and Rosalee turns slightly after a moment, though he doesn't think it's because she heard him, more that she's forced to acknowledge an object that comes into her sightline: Eve.

"Rosalee," Eve says, taking a seat beside her on the bench. She doesn't say anything else and Rosalee doesn't offer anything for a long moment. Monroe finds his mouth if lodge with too many words or too much emotion, he's not sure.

"I hate this," Rosalee says.

"Being a mother?" Eve asks.

"Being a mother and feeling miserable when I should be feeling happy. I mean, I got everything I ever dreamed of, right? I mean a husband, a family, three beautiful children," she says. "I should be ecstatic, right? I mean, Monroe is happy, my mom is happy, my sister is happy, and what am I? Numb. I feel like I'm far away, living someone else's life right now. I can't stand the way I feel, but I can't seem to unfeel it."

"Maybe it's time you looked at getting some help," Eve says.

"You think that will solve anything?" Rosalee retorts derisively.

"It's a step," Eve says.

Rosalee snorts, but she nods after a moment.

"I suppose," she says softly. "I just…I just walked out, on my children, on my family. I didn't even look back. You must think I'm a horrible person," she says, and Monroe jolts slightly when he realizes her comment is directed towards him. It's the first time she's acknowledged his presence since he's stumbled upon her.

"No, Rosalee…I'm worried about you. We're _all_ worried about you. You haven't seemed like yourself in a while, and I kept thinking—hoping—it would get better, but I think it's only gotten worse. I _hate_ seeing you unhappy," he says, moving to sit on the other side of her. She nods, biting her lip to keep it from trembling."

"I think I'm a horrible person," she whispers.

"Horrible is relative," Eve replies blithely and Rosalee flicks her eyes to her, and there's the barest hint of disbelief and a hollow smile in her look, but it's so fleeting Monroe might have imagined it.

"You're not a horrible person," Eve says.

"On a scale of one to Eve? That's reassuring," Rosalee says bitingly.

Monroe takes her hand and squeezes it. It's limp in his palm, but he laces his fingers through hers anyway. Rosalee sniffles, and he realizes tears have started to slide down her face.

"It will be okay," he promises. "Things will get better. You'll start to feel better. We just need to get you into a doctor and get you some help."

Rosalee doesn't say anything, just bites her lip harder.

"What would you say to Adalind, if you found her like this?" Eve asks hesitantly. Monroe glances at her in surprise. "If the situation were reversed, and it was Adalind who was feeling the way you do, after she had Kelly, what would you say?"

Rosalee sniffles loudly, and shakily replies.

"I'd tell her that she needs to see a doctor. That she's probably suffering post-partum depression and she needs to get some help. That Kelly deserves the best mom he can have and that she's hurt—hurting—" she stumbles, "him and Nick by not getting the help she needs." She glances up at Monroe, eyes filled with tears.

"So, knowing that, what do you think you need to do?" Eve presses.

"I'm sorry," Rosalee says to Monroe, tears spilling over, and Monroe reaches for her. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles into his shoulder.

"I just want you to feel better," Monroe replies.

%%%%


	29. Part Six - Chapter Four

"So go over everything again," Renard says, eyeing the sheriff closely. His name is Bronson and he's a nervous acting Bauerschwein. He's clearly intimidated by Renard, though whether it's just his intensity or his credentials he's not sure. They're in the Middle of Nowhere, Idaho, seated in Bronson's dark, cramped office, as Renard gets the scoop on the body that was found in the woods.

He's already had a couple of staff scope out the story and the area, but based on their report he's decided to take a trip beyond Portland and all the fray to investigate it himself.

"Just like I told you over the phone," Bronson says. "The body—the skull—appeared to have been crushed by some outside force, but what that force was, the coroner was unable to identify."

"What's his theory?"

"Hydrostatic pressure, except where he was found—I mean, that kind of crushing, you're talking _miles_ down in the water, something you only find in the deepest parts of the ocean. The body and car were obviously found nowhere near that, and only his head reflected that level of trauma. The rest of the body that was present was fine, other than decay expected with the length of time we suspect the body's been in there."

"Which is approximately a year?"

"Yeah, give or take a month or two."

It's been about that since he's last seen his daughter. It's not much of a clue to go on—even if this body is the result of Diana, it doesn't mean they're still in the area, especially after that length of time, but still, it's more than he's had to go on for months, so he feels it's worth his attention. Plus things in Portland…he needs to get out, get away, so tensions can die down and he can refocus.

He's sure his detractors will think the timing's suspect—the press is certainly having a field day if they've found out—but he's hoping he can be gone and back before they are able to spin the story in a derogatory way. Things are rapidly eluding his control, and trusted allies are fewer and farther between. Finding his daughter would be critical to restoring some trust and some order within his own ranks.

"What do _you_ think caused it?"

"Hell if I know. We don't get a lot of cases like that out here. It's not from any wesen you'd typically find here in the woods," Bronson says and Renard nods.

"What about where you found it? What can you tell about what's around there?"

"Not a whole hell of a lot. The cruiser was discovered in a pretty remote and difficult place to navigate in the woods, which is of course why it took so long to find the body."

"No GPS on the car?"

"It was disabled," Bronson says and Renard nods again. It would make sense: Nick, if he's responsible for the coverup as Renard suspects he is, would be well aware of the kind of technology in police cruisers.

"Any people living nearby?"

"It's all state and national forest here. There are a few hillbilly cabins, hunting shacks and the like, but most are uninhabited, especially during the winter. Pretty primitive living. No running water, electricity, etcetera, etcetera."

"Most are uninhabited? So, someone could be living out here. Or squatting."

Bronson shrugs. "Could be, but I don't envy them. You got to be one of those nature freaks, or anti-government types to shack up in a place out here."

Or be a wanted man, on the run, trying to hide his family, Renard thinks.

"Where's the closest one?"

"Miles away, but even we have a hard time keeping track of the shanties that go up in the woods that deep, but I really don't think whoever you're looking for is going to be found close by."

He nods again, though he's not sure he agrees. Regardless, he gave strict instructions to his crew that initially went out to investigate to comb the area thoroughly, and based on their report, they didn't find anything of interest, but it might be worth a second look.

"Who discovered it?"

"A logging crew scouting the area happened upon it."

"Do you still have the body?"

Bronson nods. "What's left of it. Some animals scavenged away with some of it."

"Right."

He follows Bronson's instructions to the county morgue and has one of the technicians show him the body. There's not much of the sheriff deputy to speak of, and the skull is fragmented heavily where the pressure caved it in. He studies it, hoping something jumps out, but nothing does. He can't shake the sense that this was done by something and someone incredibly powerful, and he's only seen powers like that in his daughter.

Bronson presents him with a couple of the officers first on scene, and Renard questions them briefly about the crime scene: the car was wiped down and that there was no DNA found in the car beyond that which belonged to the deputy.

It's all confirmation of the information in the report he's read a dozen times now, heard from his own team's observations, but the lack of anything new still irritates him.

He has one of the officers drive him out to the site and he grips the handle on the ceiling beside the door tightly as they rock over some rough terrain and start an incredibly sharp descent down what amounts to Renard as a cow path, except he can't imagine that animal, or any other being dumb enough to attempt it.

The officer brakes halfway down and the car slides another ten feet in mud before it comes to a stop.

"We'll have to hike it the rest of the way. Probably going to have to winch ourselves out if we go any further," and Renard nods, exhaling a nervous sigh. He'd rather walk anyway, though the climb back looks to be a bitch, especially in the thick mud and he looks down at his expensive Italian leather shoes and sighs. They might need to winch themselves up, much less the truck.

"How much further down is it?"

"About a mile or so," the officer replies.

"Down that?" he exclaims, pointing, and the officer nods.

"It's a wonder the body was found at all," Renard mutters.

"Whoever put him there did a good job hiding it," the officer agrees.

"Someone familiar with the area, you think?" Renard asks, because he's trying to piece together a timeline of the officer's death and when Nick and Adalind took off with his daughter.

He's thinking maybe only a couple of weeks between that time, if that? Was two weeks long enough to learn the area as well as he would expect someone would need to know about this place? If not, did that mean Nick had been to this area before? Maybe he had lived in Idaho with his aunt? Didn't she have a vehicle with Idaho plates? Or was it Montana? Or was it just dumb luck that Nick or Adalind had found it?

It seemed too remote to just have stumbled upon, but once again his knowledge of Nick's history prior to coming to Portland and joining the force is sketchy.

"Could be," the officer agrees. "Even if you make a wrong turn, or even two, you don't end up this far into the mountains. Usually you back up and retrace your steps. This does seem deliberate on the part of the perpetrator."

Renard nods again, mulling this over and indicates for the officer to precede him. It's slow, treacherous going, and that's just the part where they're able to keep to the trail, a muddy path with two wheel ruts, likely made by the logging company's equipment, given the size of the tracks. He wonders how they were able to fit such heavy equipment into a place so densely populated with trees without having to fell more of them to create the path. The forest seems largely and surprisingly untouched. Once they leave the path, it's a precarious trek down an incredibly steep hillside before he finally spots it, the crumpled dented body of the deputy sheriff's car, banged and rusting in areas where it was more susceptible to the elements that attacked it. The front end was heavily damaged where it came to rest after banging its way down the hillside. Renard looks up, breathing hard as he studies the hillside they just descended and notes the broken branches of trees and shrubs where the car plowed through.

"Water was pretty high a few months ago. Likely covered a good portion of the front end. We had a lot of snowfall this past winter, and runoff. Been a dry summer though, so water's receded some."

The water was still lapping the grill and front fender of the car, Renard notes and he looks back again.

The officer indicates for Renard to precede him again and Renard carefully makes his way down the embankment, stumbling slightly as he slips on the wet surface before he regains his footing. He peers down, the window dirty, and has to maneuver carefully closer to the vehicle, bracing himself and clinging to the frame of the window so he can peer in.

"You didn't find anything in the car?" he asks again, but he already knows the answer.

"No prints. Wiped clean."

"Anything missing?"

"Not that we can tell," the officer says.

Figures, he thinks. Nick's way too smart to leave something obvious behind; Adalind, too.

"What information do you have on the deputy? Did he radio in anything suspicious? Stops?"

"Last contact the deputy had with the sheriff's department was a courtesy stop for an obstructed license plate."

Renard snaps up from his study of the interior and looks at the officer.

"Did he describe the vehicle?"

"Large SUV, but nothing beyond that."

SUV. Nick's Land Cruiser certainly qualified as a large SUV, and it, Diana, along with Nick and Adalind and their son, were missing. An SUV could certainly navigate most of the path down here, at least to the point where the officer parked and they walked down. Possibly, he reconsiders, maybe not that far. Did the deputy drive himself down this way and down this embankment?

The interior was clean—certainly devoid of the blood spatter he would expect of the skull crushing, had it occurred in the car, which would make him think he was killed elsewhere and the car was driven here by Nick to dispose of it and the body.

Unless Diana somehow manipulated the deputy or the vehicle down here. Could she do that?

He remembers his hand moving, stabbing Nick's sword through Bonaparte, as though it wasn't even part of him. Was she strong enough to voodoo a sheriff's deputy to drive his vehicle down this way as she slowly (or quickly?) caved his skull in?

It might explain why they can't find any evidence in the car.

He looks back at the vehicle and the path, ignoring the officer's curious look at what has him so transfixed.

It had to be Nick. It had to be, he thinks, who drove the car and the deputy to this point. Perhaps Diana summoned a final telekinetic heave-ho, or manipulated the deputy to drive down the embankment, or maybe even Nick physically helped to push it.

Hell, with Adalind, maybe he didn't need to. Her powers might have been enough to push the cruiser enough to start rolling and crashing down the hill.

He doesn't know what Diana's capable of, truly. Has only had a few, very disturbing insights into her abilities. The final resting place of the car could be her or it could be Nick and Adalind, but the state of the deputy's skull had to be Diana.

Did Nick lure the deputy down here? Why would the deputy follow a vehicle this deep into the woods without radioing for backup? How did he get here unless Nick or Adalind put him here?

And if they did, where did the deputy first encounter them?

"Where was the deputy when he radioed in about the stop?"

"About a half hour away, near a rest stop off the highway."

Renard looks up with interest.

"Show me."

%%%%%

He looks around, studying the heavily wooded area. It's a small, roughly paved parking lot, about a half-dozen spaces with room for a vehicle towing a camper to park. There's a single, primitive looking building that comprises the men's and women's bathroom, each with a single stall, and a plexi and wooden case displaying a map of Idaho and specifically the area they're in. He looks down, wondering if he'll see blood, or evidence of a struggle, but it's literally been months since the deputy went missing, and he doesn't even know if the deputy stopped Nick here or just near here.

Still, he walks carefully, always mindful he could be disturbing evidence, and he's tempted to call Bronson and have him bring a crime scene unit out to scour the area for blood evidence.

He looks again at the building, wondering where the deputy might have surprised Nick. There's a single window on each side, about six feet up.

"What are you looking for?"

"Blood," Renard says shortly.

"You think he was killed here?" the officer looks down at the ground around them. Renard shakes his head. He doesn't know. The parking lot doesn't appear like it's going to be much help in the way of clues or answers.

The lines of the parking spaces have been freshly repainted and he studies the rock under his feet. It, too, looks like it's a recent upgrade and he sighs, knowing that if there was any evidence here it's likely lost or buried under the new layer of asphalt that's been laid down.

"Let's check out the bathrooms," Renard says.

There's nothing, though he's certain if he'd look he'd find evidence of many things he'd rather not know about, but none of them, he suspects, would point to any clues as to the deputy, Nick, or his daughter.

It's a dead end.

He takes a measured sigh and tries to look at it analytically. Why stop here, if they even did stop here? Maybe they didn't, but according to the officer the deputy and Nick were on this route. So what was here? What's around here?

He's still studying the area hours later in his hotel room, trying to determine what would have lead Nick in this direction. Sun Valley, Boise, are all south or west of where the deputy was found. Was Nick headed east? North? The highway in question runs North and south, but if Nick wanted to go to Canada wouldn't he have gone up through Washington? Which left east, but what was east of here?

Plenty of places. Minneapolis. Chicago. New York, but his friends had traveled to New York and so far as he could tell they'd come up empty. It was true Nick was born and raised there as a child, but he doesn't know what would entice him to go there, other than the anonymity.

He stares down at the map, feeling his tenuous grip on an idea of his daughter's whereabouts slip away.

He picks up the map and crumples it angrily before tossing it aside. The file containing the information he's painstakingly pieced together follows and soon a phone book, a lamp, a chair, and most of the bedding follow as his anger and frustration causes him to woge.

A moment later someone raps on his door.

"What?" he snarls, twisting his neck jerkily and snapping his human features back into place. He wrenches the door open and encounters a startled woman on the other side of it.

"Keep it down, buddy," she says shakily, backing away. "My children are trying to sleep."

He makes a conscious effort to get himself back under control, though it takes every bit of willpower he has not to reassume his wesen nature and snap at her.

"Sorry," he says shortly and she nods and hurries away. He hears the door next to his room open and shut and a lock slide into place. He stares down the hall where she disappeared for a moment longer before he reenters his room and shuts the door.

The room's a mess, the chair he heaved into the wall is broken, as are parts of the wall. He rights some of the things and tidies up the room a bit and takes a seat on the bed. He presses his hands against his face and breathes deeply through his fingers.

His phone is full of messages from his staff. In his absence, apparently there's been a wave of criminal activity and violent crimes.

He's only been gone for two days.

He grabs his phone and checks his messages again, listening to the start of each one before deleting it just a few seconds in. It's roughly the same message no matter who's leaving it.

Death and destruction about in Portland and it's all his fault, or some variation there of. He's beginning to think Black Claw's experiment in wesen rule is a failure and now he's not certain on what side of the argument he wants to fall on. Wesen have been living in secret for centuries, but unless he can convince the Portland population that they've been seeing things, the secret's out of the box now and he's not sure how best to proceed.

His instinct is to chuck everyone in his current administration and start fresh, except he's well aware many in his administration are not going to go quietly, which represents an additional difficulty in correcting the problem. Many were installed or came to power because of Bonaparte's efforts, and many are trying to perpetuate a dogma that's proving to be outdated, or way too advanced for its time. The general public—the Kehrseite public—is proving it's not ready or willing to understand that people so different from them live among them. And the wesen are going about it wrong—grappling for power, money, and freedoms at the expense of the Kehrseites.

He can't calm either side down when his own is quietly encouraging the wesen causing problems to take advantage of the chaos, and the people he once served and protected are loudly decrying everything about the wesen population.

He needs a message of unity, one that would be better served with a demonstration of what awaits if they can't all find a way to live together.

He needs his daughter.

Eve.

He hates to even contemplate Nick and his little gang of scoobies, but Nick's a very capable Grimm, and he was a very capable officer when he worked for the Portland P.D.

He's going to have to reestablish order, and that's going to require a firm hand.

It's going to require dedication on the part of the officers and the assurance that the law is being upheld.

At least upheld like Renard needs it.

It's going to require removing Hendrick from his job, and that's going to require some careful footwork since he's well aware that Hendrick is looking for the opportunity and the crime to pin on Renard, and he's not certain whether Hendrick is sitting on it, or if he even has anything.

He needs an inside person, and that sycophant Orwin might be his best bet, but given his relationship now with his uncle, the Judge, it might not be the best choice.

He thinks again of his offer to Eve and wonders how much ground he's losing if he tries to approach her again. He's disappointed she didn't take him up on his offer, though what he can still tell things are rocky between her and the others. He's heard she's helping out at the spice shop while Rosalee's on maternity leave.

Maybe he'll make a stop there when he returns to Portland, though he can't imagine how his visit will be received, especially if Eve's not the only one at the shop.

%%%%%

The shop's closed, he notes with surprise. He doesn't stop, just driving by slowly, enough that he can make out the sign and he wonders what's going on that the Spice and Tea shop would be closed on a Wednesday afternoon. He has his answer when he turns the corner and notes a pair of boarded up windows in the shop beside Rosalee's, and it looks like the riff-raff of Portland have struck again.

The chamber of commerce will likely be demanding an audience, since wesen businesses in Portland have been targeted by hate groups. Rosalee's shop was targeted, too, when it was leaked by his office that she was a Grimm sympathizer.

Businesses are threatening to leave unless order can be restored, and Hendrick's failed to eliminate or even slow down the petty crimes and thefts.

Of course the lack of progress on Hendrick's part will be cause for blame for Renard. It's another reminder it's time to deal with the barnacle that is Hendrick, though he'd hoped to hold off on doing anything until he had a suitable replacement lined up, but he's quickly becoming of the opinion that anyone would be better in the position than Hendrick.

He decides a trip to the station might be in order and he points the car in the direction of the central precinct. He spies Hank and Wu cloistered together near Hank's desk. Nick's desk is covered with files, an overflow of the cases Hank's working that no longer fit on his desk, but otherwise appears unused, though Wu's sitting in his chair, pulled around so he can look at something on Hank's monitor.

Wu glances up and catches Renard's eye, his usual sardonic expression, as Hank takes note of Renard's appearance, too.

"Why, do my eyes deceive me? It's our illustrious mayor," Wu drawls.

"Naw, couldn't be. I heard he's hunkered down in some top secret bunker. Waiting for the storm to pass," Hank says, and a few officers around them snicker. Renard's lips thin and he levels a dark glare at Hank.

"The shit storm he created?" Wu asks in the same smug drawl. "How are things in your super-secret bunker. I hear you have a marble toilet with twenty-four karat fixtures."

"I heard he has a state of the art LCD crystal TV, he can watch the city of Portland burn on without ever having to worry about getting his feet dirty. The picture is so clear it's like you're there. Of course, all you have to do is just go outside and you are," Hank says.

"Sergeant Griffin, still demoted I see," Renard replies. Hank shrugs. "You could make me chief of police it's not going to change anything. _I'm_ not the problem."

"Oh, and by your insinuation I am?"

"No, I'm sure it's some other mayor of Portland," Hank says reassuringly.

He'd like to punch the smug grin off of the former detective's face, but fortunately for Hank he's distracted by his view of Hendrick's office.

Hendrick's seated behind the desk, along with three other people, one in uniform but the other two are plains-clothes wearing suits, and if they're detectives in the precinct he doesn't recognize them.

"Who are the suits?" he asks, before he remembers Wu and Hank aren't likely to provide answers.

"Dunno," Wu says, surprising him. "But it looks serious, doesn't it?"

"I believe they've been looking for you," Hank adds mildly, and Renard flicks his eyes back to him. He wants to ask why, but he doesn't want to seem concerned. Besides, Hank looks only too happy to tell him, but he doubts he knows much about what's going on or why they may want to see him. Still, stopping by the precinct unannounced now seems like a foolish idea, when he's suddenly aware of any number of reasons they might be looking for him.

"FBI?" he says, because now that he's focused on them, they exude the put-upon air of federal agents being forced to mingle with the rabble and drabble of lowly officers.

"Probably," Wu says. "Wonder what you did to excite their attention?"

"Who says I did anything," Renard shoots back. "Perhaps they've found a lead on Burkhardt, and my daughter. Kidnapping a child is a federal offense," he reminds them coolly.

He moves away, debating on whether he should interrupt the powwow going on in Hendrick's office, without first screening the two with him through official channels within his organization, but it looks too much like running and he's tired of being on the end of everyone else's strings.

"Gentlemen," he says, entering. "Sorry to interrupt. Is it possible I could have a few minutes of Captain Hendrick's time. I have an urgent matter I need to speak with him about," Renard concludes. He's watching every facial tic the agents make as he talks, trying to determine if their interest is Hendrick alone or if they're here for other reasons.

"Mr. Mayor," one of them says. "I don't believe I've had the chance to meet you. I'm agent Holt and this is agent Shapiro."

"Pleasure to meet you," Renard says, shaking hands with each.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine," Holt says cryptically and Renard fixes his attention back on him. "Captain Hendrick here has weaved a fascinating story."

"Oh?" Renard says staring hard at Hendrick. "What about you?"

"Oh, about campaign fraud, collusion, and even, can you believe it murder, all since you came to power. All _because_ you came to power."

"Is that a fact?" Renard says. "Well, I'm sure once you conduct your investigation you'll find the evidence doesn't add up to any wrong-doing on my part."

"I'm sure. I believe evidence-tampering was another allegation that was made, wasn't it Shapiro?"

"You know, after I heard everything that was going on I think it got lost in all the charges he's alleging. The most interesting one though are the murder charges?"

"On one of my staff?"

"On you. It seems your campaign manager turned up dead. So, did a high-ranking member of your cabinet. And correct me if I'm wrong, you've been the victim of at least one assassination attempt?"

"Yes, you're right, Agent. I'm the victim. Which I'm sure you'll discover if you're any kind of investigator at all."

"Right."

"I look forward to your findings, agents. Don't let me keep you."

"Weren't you needing to discuss something with Captain Hendrick?" Shapiro asks.

"Yes, a private matter you said. Here, we can step out," Agent Holt adds generously. He stands and Shapiro follows suit. "We'll give you a few minutes. I'm sure there's lots you'd like to say."

Hendrick and Renard watch the two men exit the office and stand in the bullpen. Renard catches Hank's eye as he and Wu and most of the rest of the office eye the newcomers with interest. Hank glances at the men and then Renard and smirks before Hendrick pulls his attention away from him.

"You got something to say, Mr. Mayor?"

The room's probably bugged, and he's not dumb enough to say anything to incriminate himself anyway, not with a slug like Hendrick. The whole situations slipping rapidly out of his control and he feels his other nature pulsing angrily beneath the surface, ready to lash out.

His reason for being here is to tell Hendrick he's relieving him of command, but if he does so now, right at the start of the FBI's investigation he'll certainly sharpen their focus on him and not Hendrick. He's going to have to be very careful; one in how he handles Hendrick and two in how he points the evidence of misconduct at him. He can't be too obvious, but he can't afford to wait much longer.

"I came to inform you that as of Monday the council has elected to put you on review."

"Is that a fact?"

"Your performance in the last year has been below expectation."

"Well, be sure to tell them I'm about to break open the biggest case of my career. I guarantee them they won't be disappointed with what they find." Hendrick smirks and Renard stares him down for a moment, not about to be cowed. He feels fear, though, for the first time, acutely aware of how much is slipping beyond his control.

"Don't think a bogus investigation into my campaign or my life is going to yield you a lifeboat. You've been too concerned with padding your own bottom line rather than helping the citizens of Portland and guiding the police force in maintaining order."

"Yeah, I'm the bad guy here," Hendrick agrees sarcastically. "It's over Mr. Mayor. I can't wait until the FBI, the Courier, and the city of Portland learns just what kind of self-serving mayor they've elected."

"Your career's finished, Hendrick. It's only a matter of time before you're removed from your job."

"Yeah, right," Hendrick says, gloating.

"I'll let you get back to your little meeting," Renard adds, opening the door and indicating for the agents to reenter. "Gentlemen," he says again. "I look forward to reading your report."

%%%%%

He makes it home in a fog, mechanically making the turns until he's home, in the mansion that's become his prison. He grunts at a guard who acknowledges his arrival and makes his way into the house from one of the servant's entrances.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

It's all going to shit. Faster than he could possibly imagine. That fucking shit Hendrick.

"Bad day?"

He whirls around, woging with surprise.

"How did you get in here?"

"Really? You have to ask that question?" Eve says in a bored tone. She's dressed in the leather pants and jacket that thinks of as her trademark, and a no nonsense black bob. She's staring at him with an intense, yet blank expression, and she looks, cool, calm, and collected. Basically a representation of everything he's not feeling.

"What do you want?" He asks, letting his human features slide back into place. "I'm a little busy."

"Watching your reign of power get destroyed by a suddenly ambitious slug who wants to watch you burn?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Really? You have to ask that question?" Eve replies again.

"Hank?" he says in a disgusted tone. "News travels fast, I see." He's only just left the station an hour ago, though he supposes it's not that much of a surprise that the first phone call Hank would make would be to someone in the Scooby gang, perhaps to Eve herself, though that would surprise him. Still, likely she heard it from Trubel or that other one, Josh what's his name, that she seems to be friendly with.

"Not Hank," Eve says. "I take it you haven't seen the news today?"

A cold wave washes over him and he stares at her. She waves a hand and the TV on the wall comes to life. A vibrant reporter, one he knows intimately, is breathlessly giving the news of the investigation into his campaign and mayoral run from what appears is his front lawn. He moves to his office, located at the front of the house and pushes back a curtain. There, at the end of the lawn, lining the street are vehicle after vehicle with Portland's many news organizations emblazoned on the side.

"What the fu—"

"They've been there all afternoon. Somebody tipped them off to a big announcement."

"Hendrick," he says disgustedly. "The little weasel."

"Hm," Eve says.

He turns his attention back to her, letting the curtain fall before anyone realizes someone's home. The TV's recounting his astonishing rise to power and Renard stares at with irritation, watching an image of himself when he took up the campaign flash against the screen.

"Turn that off," he commands.

"It's a good picture of you," she remarks. "So young, so ambitious, so full of himself. And now look at you," she adds. He glares at her. She snaps her fingers and the TV shuts off.

"What do you want?" he repeats.

"We can do great things together, remember?" she says and he stares at her, barely masking his surprise.

"I made that offer months ago. What makes you think it's still open?"

"Really?" she says. "You think someone else is better capable of making this mess you've found yourself in go away? I'm sorry, I didn't realize so many were clamoring on your door to help you. I'll let myself out."

"Why do you want to help me? Especially now. I would think that my imminent fall would be the moment you're looking forward to."

"It is," she says and he frowns. "And when the time comes, you'll step down. Gracefully. But now's not the time."

He stares at her, wondering what she's about.

"Really? Just like that?" he says sarcastically. "You think after I've worked so hard to get here I'm just going to give it up?"

"Work? What work did you do to get here? You're the puppet on Bonaparte's strings. Everything that's happened to bring you here has been because of his efforts, not yours."

"Bonaparte may have rigged the election, but I'm here because I can still make Portland the greatest city in the world."

"I think we can both agree that ship has sailed. You can't do anything, not with your own team fighting against you every step of the way."

No argument here, he thinks. He's certain a handful of his loyal staff probably pointed Hendrick in the direction to look for some of the evidence he claims to have found.

"You can't trust anyone," Eve tells him.

"No, I can't," he agrees, looking at her pointedly. She smiles, a wholly foreign expression on her face. "But I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Only if you're desperate," she says.

They both know he's desperate. That this whole conversation is academic, and that he was going to accept her help the second he realized she'd shown up at his house.

"What's in it for you?"

"Freedom to be me," she says.

"What does that mean?" he asks.

"I'd hate to spoil the surprise."


	30. Part Six - Chapter Five

AN: Last chapter for a couple of weeks - I start vacation in a few days, and I am vacating everything (especially work, but this story, too, for a bit, at least). Last chapter with the scoobies for a while, also (dry your eyes). Enjoy. As always, thank you for all the kind words: feedback is appreciated.

%%%%

"How'd it go?"

Eve peels the bright, shiny red bob off and tosses it on the single bed, telekinetically lowering the elevator gate behind her.

"He's in."

"Not like he has much of a choice," Josh says, glancing up from a newspaper he's studying intently at the dining table. "Have you seen the paper?"

She nods. She skimmed over it at a café before she made her way over to the mayor's mansion and Renard, and her timing could not have been better.

"Yes, the press will skewer him, provided if the discontented public doesn't get to him first."

"Which is where you come in," Josh says, brow furrowing in confusion, laying the paper aside.

"I still say, I'm not sure if it's a bad thing if someone takes out Renard," Trubel says. "It could solve a lot of problems.

"Or create a hundred more, depending on who replaces him."

"Whoever replaces him can't be worse than Renard."

"Remember Bonaparte? We don't know for sure, and besides, Portland's barely hanging on as it is. We're one assassination away from total chaos."

"We've got total chaos now," Trubel returns.

Eve shakes her head.

"No, not yet, but I agree we're close. It's going to be critical how we play this."

"How'd your powers hold up?" Trubel asks her, dark brown eyes looking over her in concern.

"Fine," Eve says. "No issues."

No real test of them, either, but she doesn't point that out. She's still using a variation of the power boost that she and Rosalee worked out originally while she searches for a more permanent solution. A few tweaks have resulted in a more predictable and longer boost to her powers, and she has a better idea of how and when it will run out, which gives her more control over them. Still, what she's doing is dangerous, for so many reasons, and a part of her can't help but wonder what exactly she's trying to achieve by doing it.

%%%%

She learns quickly that Renard's staff is deeply divided. There are those who secretly oppose him and are actively working with Black Claw, Hendrick, the FBI and whoever else to take him down, and those who support his agenda and have the utmost faith he has theirs, and the city of Portland's, best interests at heart.

Eve herself is divided—though she has no doubt Renard has his own agenda first and foremost, she does suspect he doesn't want to see the city his spent years in, protecting and serving, go down in flames.

She's trying to figure out why Portland is so important in the grand scheme of things. Why Black Claw chose it as the city to try to make rise to their Wesen run society. What is it about Portland that makes it so special? Why not Berlin, or Paris, or any number of cities that have a large Wesen population and influence?

The only thing she can figure is Renard's the draw, what with his royal lineage, though she's still trying to figure out how exactly Renard, and Black Claw, are planning to leverage that to their advantage. She thinks Renard's plan is to manipulate his way back into the royal family, and she wonders how much of his family is left after the death of his father, his brother, and Kenneth. The queen has been long dead, too, so who does that leave?

She knows there's still various cousins, and when she was with Hadrian's Wall, they had their eye on a few of them, but they seemed to lack the ambition of Renard. Of course, they were already accepted, too, and had much less to prove as to whether they belonged.

None of them were Wesen either.

She's two weeks into her new job, and she's already quietly dispatched a handful of his staff of advisors and security. Rather than be alarmed at the sheer number of those plotting against him, Renard seems impressed with the speed she identifies and eliminates the threats. So far the booster is working and she doesn't think Renard suspects anything's amiss, but she's always got her guard up, aware that he's well-informed about most matters, especially those that surround Nick's band of friends and allies.

"I've heard stories," he says one day, while she's there to inform him of her latest findings of discord and discontent among the ranks. They're slowly thinning the herd of the most devious opponents, but some are proving especially difficult and require a delicate approach.

She looks up, meeting his eyes, and wonders what he's heard.

"About you," he says at her look. "About some of the things you can do—have done."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Is it true that you sealed the eyes and ears and mouth of a black claw operative when he wouldn't talk?"

"I asked nicely. He refused to cooperate," she replied.

"It seems to me maybe your talents could be better utilized elsewhere, not that I don't appreciate what you've done with my staff. It was long overdue for some housecleaning," he adds, smiling.

"There's still more work to be done," she counters. He tips his head in acknowledgment and waves a hand at one of the chairs in front of his desk. He takes a seat behind it and a moment later she complies. "Black Claw and its sympathizers are deeply rooted in your organization. Bonaparte was very thorough. It's apparent he took great pains to ensure that when the opportunity arose for them to take power that there would be more than ready to grab it."

"Bonaparte," Renard scoffs disgustedly. "The further this goes with Black Claw, the happier I am he met his untimely end."

"You won't be if Hendrick and the FBI turn up evidence that links you to his murder."

"Well, I'm sure you and Nick and the others took great care and disposed of all that, including the body and any other incriminating evidence," Renard says, eyeing her darkly.

"You were the last one who can account for his whereabouts."

"I don't know what happened to Bonaparte," he says.

She raises an eyebrow again.

"Before or after you stabbed him with a sword?"

Renard looks at her, a strange expression on his face. He almost looks like he wants to say something, but the moment's gone a second later.

"We need to figure out how to eliminate Black Claw completely," Renard says.

"Eliminate them?" she repeats.

"Yes, they're proving to be more problematic than I anticipated."

She wonders if he anticipated anything, so focused on obtaining a position of power, did he even stop and consider what the consequences of it might be, or that he would be fighting tooth and nail to keep the city together.

"Aren't they your benefactors? Weren't you and Black Claw going to pioneer a new world?"

Renard snorts.

"I don't need, or want, their influence. I'm tired of being a puppet on a string for Black Claw. I thought with Bonaparte gone that that would end, but I think it's only gotten worse as the months have passed."

Eve says nothing, just regards him quietly, but it doesn't appear that Renard is looking for a response anyway. It comes to her, as Renard begins to talk, about how he fell under Black Claw's spell—the vision they painted for him, the power they promised him—and how, as the days and weeks went by, he just fell in deeper and deeper, and the promises that were made evaporated, it comes to her how lonely Renard is.

Given what he set in motion, what he did to Nick—taking his family and appropriating it as his own all for the cameras, it's hard to summon much sympathy for his self-inflicted plight.

But it's terrifying to acknowledge the tones of isolation and loneliness she hears in his story.

And more frighteningly, how easily she can relate.

To be surrounded by people, those who all claim to be friends or allies and feel completely alone.

It's important to remember that Renard, like Juliette, is in a mess of his own making. That he was an architect in his fall from the respect of his peers and coworkers. That he let his failings of greed and lust for power drive him to make horrible decisions whose effects have rippled throughout Portland.

Still, she finds a part of her moved by his story, the disappointment of a life promised, now tarnished and likely never to be. She swallows back a rush of emotion, angry with herself that she still feels the pangs of regret for the life she expected she would have with Nick and the life she has now.

It's time to move on from that dream, and she thought she has been—trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and move forward, despite the setback she's now dealing with and she wonders again if it wouldn't be better for her own sanity to start a new life somewhere else.

She looks at Renard again, still recounting his fall from grace and wonders if there's no going back for him. For her. Given what Renard's done would they ever take him back if he expressed his sincere regret for the things he's done? Could they ever trust him again?

It's the same questions they undoubtedly have about her.

"We're a lot alike, you and I," Renard says, looking at her and she's pulled from her thoughts back to the conversation they're having.

"So you said," Eve says noncommittally. He pierces her with a knowing look, and she wonders what he sees when he looks at her—is her heart or emotions on her sleeve when she's trying so hard to keep them under lock and key and achieve this one goal?

The goal of being instrumental of putting Portland and Renard back to rights again. And once she does, she can move on. On from being Juliette, or Eve. On from Portland.

"Together I think we can get the city under control."

Eve snorts.

"You're going to need more than my help for that," she replies.

He frowns, a pensive look marring his features.

"What is it you suggest?" he says. "Trubel? Hank and Wu? Nick," he scoffs.

"For a start," Eve replies. "Whether you want to admit or not, you need them to get Portland under control."

"Tell me, how's that search for Nick going? Found him yet?"

"No, have you?" Eve replies steadily.

Renard looks at her for another long moment, and Eve feels the steady beat of her heart pause, then resume rapidly. Again, there's something in that look—just a flicker of indecision, but she wonders if Renard knows something. Did he find out about Nick's car in the woods?

"I haven't found anything," he says, and he's lying.

"You're lying," she replies, testing him, calling him out on it and seeing what he'll do. Perhaps he's testing her as well.

"So are you," Renard replies. "Anything you'd like to share?" he prompts dryly.

He's always comported himself well, very careful with information and how he parcels it out, but he knows something, she's just not sure what it is. Is it merely the same information they have, or does he have something new? It's so tempting, to lay it out on the table, and pool the information they have to see if something more can be learned about Nick and his whereabouts.

"Or have the scoobies cut you out?" he adds with another look. "Isn't that why you're here? You don't fit in there anymore. Too much history and bad blood. Or are there other reasons? I know it's not just to help me."

"You know something," she says, ignoring his baiting. "What is it you're dying to ask me about?"

"I know lots of things," he says, leaning back in his chair, the springs creaking and cracking, "but I'm curious how much of Nick's history you're familiar with," he says gamely.

"His history?" she repeats.

"Yes, those years between Portland and when his parents died. Well, _parent_ , I should say, since we know his mother didn't die when he was a child."

"He was raised by his aunt," she says slowly, "You know this."

"Yes, good ole Aunt Marie," Renard agrees. "She spent a lot of time traveling around the country, didn't she?"

She's trying to figure out what he's leading to, her mind rapidly filtering through memories of Nick, she and him talking about his childhood and growing up.

"You probably know about as much as I do about that," Eve says. "Nick didn't really talk about his childhood much, and most of his stories about his aunt aren't anything overly exciting—mostly anecdotes about minor events, growing pains and the like. Marie kept secret her life as a Grimm and their family's history until she came to Portland right before she died. He never knew about any of it prior to then."

"I'm not interested in his or her history as a Grimm, I'm interested in the places they traveled."

Traveled?

"You found something?" she says, because he seems to want to know something specific, and maybe it's time they lay all their cards on the table rather than beating around the bush. Renard looks at her, choosing his next words carefully, and she suspects he's having the same thought, too.

"If we're going to help each other, I think we need to be honest, don't you?" Renard says. "I mean, how can I trust you when you sit there lying to me?"

"I'm not the only one playing games," she retorts, and he tips his head in acknowledgment.

"No, you're not. And I'm getting tired of the games and the subterfuge that's been going on around here. If this _partnership_ is going to work, we're going to have to start somewhere. What do you know about any time Nick or his aunt spent in Idaho?"

"Idaho?" she echoes. "Nothing," she says. "As far as I know they never lived in Idaho," she says. Renard stares at her, searching her face for signs of deceit, as he frowns in disappointment.

"Never? Never took a vacation there?"

Eve shakes her head.

"You're sure? There's not a memory you buried somewhere or forgot as—"

"I retained all my memories as Juliette," she cuts in. "Nick never mentioned living in Idaho with his aunt, to me." But it's also fair to say, that Nick didn't mention a lot of things to her in their relationship.

What's so significant about Idaho?

"Why Idaho?" she asks him. He eyes her for another moment. "What did you find?"

"A car," he says, and her brow furrows. Did he dump the Land Cruiser in Washington, pick up another vehicle and drive it to Idaho before dumping it, too? If a car linked to Nick was found in Idaho maybe he didn't go to Canada like they suspect. And that means he's not in Seattle, or Washington somewhere like they were assuming.

"And a body," he adds, and her eyes flick up.

"A body?" she repeats, pulse speeding up again. It's not Nick, she tells herself.

"With a rather curious cause of death," he continues. She raises an eyebrow, prompting him.

"Skull was completely crushed, like someone had put it in a vise. Crumpled in on itself like you might find if a body or an object sank too deep in dense water."

"Sort of like something a very powerful hexenbiest could do?" she asks.

He shrugs.

"It's possible," he says. "From what I've seen Diana has some extraordinary powers."

Eve nods slightly in agreement. Yes, everything that she had seen, too, indicated that Diana possessed incredible abilities from an early age.

"Who's the body?" she asks.

He smiles slightly, more of a grimace, though he seems to understand she's asking if the body is Nick.

"An unfortunate sheriff's deputy who appears to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She waits for him to elaborate.

"So you think Nick stole the car?"

"I think Nick disposed of the body. It was well hid, in an area of the forest so remote, that it's highly unlikely anyone unfamiliar with the terrain and the area would know about it."

"Did you find evidence of Nick at the crime scene?" she asks, though she figures Nick, if he did as Renard's alleging, covered his tracks. The car was likely wiped down, which makes her wonder what, beyond, the state of the deputy's body, has Renard suspecting Nick.

"No, the car was clean, and no one knows where exactly the crime took place, not to mention the fact the coroner figures the body's been there for close to a year."

"But you think it was Nick?" she says.

"Yes," he says. She wants to ask more, namely, where in Idaho that car and the body were found but Renard narrows his eyes at her and speaks before she gets the chance.

"Now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"What do you know? Because you know something, too."

She looks at Renard steadily, an internal debate raging as she considers whether to loop Renard in to what they know, and if so, how much. It's highly possible, through any number of contacts he has, he knows about Nick's car already. And the information she has, though acquired recently, is likely near as old as the body they found in Idaho. If Nick dumped his car and headed east, then he's no longer anywhere near Washington. But how far east did he go? Is there a trail of stolen vehicles across the country? A trail of bodies? _Where_ east did he go? And why?

She told Renard the truth, she doesn't recall Nick ever mentioning living in Idaho, but she's mentally combing over every conversation she had with him about his youth, and those few she had with his aunt. She, too, was generally anecdotal about her travels in life, and her time spent with Nick raising him. There aren't many geographic locations that stand out in the stories.

"Nick's car was discovered in Washington, northeast of Seattle," she says after a moment. Renard's gaze sharpens.

"When?"

It's interesting to note that he seems genuinely surprised to hear this. Perhaps his web of information isn't as tight as they all had thought.

"A few weeks ago. It's been there for a while, though. Probably as long or longer than yours that was found."

"What did they find?"

"Not much. No evidence of foul play. No evidence of anything, really," she says.

"What's in Seattle?" Renard asks.

"What's in Idaho?" she returns. She decides to keep the information that it appears Adalind sought out and received fake identification and papers. "I don't know, but based on those two factors, it would appear they were heading east."

"It would appear," Renard agrees, though it's obvious he doesn't necessarily buy it. "He doesn't have any family left, does he? A long lost cousin?"

"An uncle," she says, "but he didn't inherit the family gift, and as far as I know, he's had very little contact with him as the years went by."

"You went east, didn't you?" Renard asks. Eve tips her head.

"We looked in all the so-called obvious places, where he and his aunt had lived, but I don't think he'd go to any place he's lived before."

"Hm," Renard says.

"What about Adalind?" Eve asks.

"What about her?"

"What's her history? Where has she lived?"

"I doubt Adalind has anyone in her history that she can fall back on for help. She's with a fugitive of the law—no one wants to take that on. Besides, if she had anyone like that to help her, I assumed she would have went to them rather than coming to Nick when she was pregnant with his son."

He watches her closely, but she doesn't react. It's what they figured anyway.

"Does she have any ties to Seattle?" she asks and he tips his head in thought.

"I think she did an internship there, if I'm not mistaken, but despite our long history there's not a lot about Adalind I know that you all probably don't."

She seriously doubts that. Adalind's a hexenbiest, her mother's a hexenbiest, and Renard's mother is a hexenbiest. It seems to be an exclusive club, where most everyone knows or has heard of everyone else. Henrietta comes to mind, since both Adalind and Renard were long aware of her.

"No other hexenbiests that would help her?"

"I doubt it," Renard says. "You remember how she was," he adds and she says nothing, but again, it's what they figured.

"Fugitive?" she says instead, returning to the comment he just made.

"Yes, fugitive," Renard says. "Who else is to blame for what happened in the North precinct?"

"Black Claw, Bonaparte. You," she adds. "Let's not forget you set all this in motion."

Renard gives her a dark look but says nothing.

"Like I told you before, if we're going to get out of it, we're going to need all the help we can get. You might consider dropping the charges against Nick."

"That's a decision only Hendrick can make," Renard says. "And I'm not sure he's taking suggestions from me, right now."

"Perhaps you need to be more persuasive," she suggests.

He eyes her speculatively.

"You want to prove you're trying to help me? Maybe you need to persuade him," Renard says. "Call it a gesture of good will."

%%%%

"You told him about Nick car? Why?" Monroe says loudly.

"We needed to know what he knows."

"He told you what he knows."

"No, he told me some of what he knows, just like I told him some of what we know. We're not getting anywhere on our own, and the information he provided is another clue. We're wasting our time searching around Seattle."

"What's in Idaho?" Trubel asks, glancing at everyone.

Hank shrugs.

"Nothing as far as I know. You're right. I don't think he ever lived there."

"Wait a minute," Wu says, and everyone looks at him.

"Didn't he say something one time when he was a kid going skiing?"

"Was that in Idaho?"

"I'm not sure, but it seemed like it was Idaho, or Montana, or Colorado or someplace."

"You said they found a body?" Rosalee asks her. She's looking slightly better, but she's still struggling daily. She's under a doctor's care and trying to treat the depression, but it's been hard, especially for Monroe who was hoping that once she was prescribed something there would be a noticeable and rapid turn around. It hasn't happened that way, but it's only been a few weeks and according to her research it will likely be a few more before they see any results, if there are any.

"Yes, according to Renard, it suffered a unique cause of death."

"Such as?"

"The skull basically imploded," she says and Wu raises his eyebrows.

" _Im_ ploded?"

"Yes."

"Say what?"

"There was crushing, the type you find when say a boat on the ocean sinks in incredibly deep water. At some point the depth is so low, and the pressure so intense that it will just crumble in on itself."

"Wow."

"Diana?" Rosalee asks and Eve nods.

"He thinks so."

"Did you see the report?" Hank asks her, and Eve shakes her head.

"No, just information that Renard offered."

"Shouldn't be hard to find," Wu says to Hank. "A body that incredible will have some people talking."

"We should see if we can get a hold of a copy of that report."

"Where in Idaho?" Monroe asks.

"The body and the sheriff's deputy's car were found in a very remote part of the woods. Renard thinks someone familiar with the lay of the land would likely only know about it."

"Hence, why he thinks Nick may have lived there years ago," Monroe says, and Eve nods again.

"I'm telling you," Wu says. "It seems like he mentioned one time when he was growing up going skiing with some buddies of his."

"It wasn't in New York was it? Someplace upstate?"

Wu shakes his head.

"No, he was a teenager I think," Wu says. "It seems like I remember him saying he went with some friends from high school."

"When was this?"

"Years ago. I mean, I think he had just come to the precinct then, and we were working some frat party gone awry, but it seems like somehow or another we got on the subject of skiing and he mentioned having gone when he was a teenager."

"Oh, yeah...Freiburger was going to Mt. Shasta to go snowboarding or something, wasn't he?" Hank says, remembering. "He was just getting ready to start vacation."

"Yeah."

"I vaguely remember that," Hank says.

"Sun Valley?" Monroe asks

"No, it wasn't any place I had heard of," Hank says.

"We need to look and see what ski resorts are in Idaho," Trubel suggests.

"About a dozen," Monroe replies.

"We don't even know he's at some ski resort, or if he's even in Idaho," Eve points out. "That's just where they found the car and the body."

"True," Wu says. "I mean, anyone could have murdered him and dumped him there."

"That would make your head implode," Monroe says skeptically.

"We're thinking wesen. Hexenbiest?"

"We're thinking Diana?" Rosalee says.

"Who else? I don't know if Adalind can manage it, but we know Diana's got some pretty incredible powers. Astral-projection, anyone?" Monroe says.

"At least we were right," Trubel says to Eve. "He's heading east."

"Yeah, but how far east? I mean, did he stop at Idaho?"

"With a dead body hanging over them? My guess is he's long gone from there," Hank replies.

"Should we be looking for a trail of bodies, then?" Wu asks.

Monroe shrugs. "Isn't that what you guys have been searching for anyway?"

"Sort of," Hank says. "Mostly we were looking for Nick's or Adalind's body."

"I can't imagine keeping Diana in check is easy. She's so powerful and at such a young age. She's probably never been taught about using her powers appropriately," Rosalee remarks.

"Not since Kelly died, anyway," Monroe agrees, and flicks his eyes at Eve uncertainly.

"Maybe she was using them appropriately," Wu says. Everyone looks at him. "Maybe Nick, or Adalind, ran into some trouble and this is how they got out of it."

"Somebody threatened them and Diana took care of it?"

Wu shrugs. "You got a better explanation for it?"

"We need to check out that report."

"We need to check out the area," Monroe counters and looks apologetically at Rosalee. "I can't do it," he says to them. "I'm needed here."

"Josh and I can go," Trubel volunteers before anyone else can offer. She glances at Josh and he looks at her dubiously, but shrugs in agreement anyway. "We just need the location."

%%%%

For a body possessing such a unique cause of death, it's surprisingly difficult to nail down a location of discovery, much less get a copy of the report.

Hank and Wu come up empty, but some of their efforts are hindered on a plausible explanation for the request and the rest are hindered by Hendrick and the ongoing power struggle at the station, and their desire to not tip their hand too much.

It results in some good ole-fashioned skulking around the mayor's mansion on Eve's part, and she tries to convince herself it's just like before, when she was Eve at a hundred percent, except she's well aware she's hardly at fifty percent most days.

Over a week goes by before the right moment presents itself and Eve's finally afforded an opportunity to search Renard's office without fear of discovery.

She steps over the unconscious bodies of two guards, suppressing a small smirk, and hopes the memory wipe she attempted will hold like before. She encounters Renard's assistant, Sarah, as she's rounding the corner and Sarah halts in surprise, shock evident on her face, before she woges into the fearsome form of a hollentier. She proves to be far more troublesome than the two guards, but after a few minutes, she, too has been dispatched on the floor, victim of another memory blight and a telekinetic slam to the ground.

Eve breathes hard for a moment, feeling her powers wavering. She listens intently, lacking Nick's extraordinary hearing, but she doesn't hear anything else for the moment. There are other guards, trolling the grounds, but so long as no one raises the alarm inside, she should be good for a few minutes. She produces a set of bones on a string, found amongst Adalind's things in the spice shop, and uses the last bit of her powers to unlock Renard's office door.

She closes it quietly behind her and takes a moment to gather her wits.

The boosters are failing her more frequently now, almost like she's developing a resistance to them, and she's worried how long she can keep the charade going with Renard, and well, the world, before she's found out.

Time seems to be running out on her, and the decision she has to make, about what she wants to do with her life, who she wants to live as, is fast approaching the critical point.

She shakes off the doubts, and moves away from the door, slowly at first and then more quickly. She rounds the desk and looks over the contents on the top. Renard's incredibly tidy, to the point of anal-retentiveness, and there's nothing of not on the top of the desk, just his phone, laptop, and a picture frame of his daughter, along with Adalind and Kelly.

She tries the drawers on the desk and finds them locked and summons her bone keys and takes a deep breath. She tries once more for the powers she needs to shape the bone into the right key to unlock the drawer. It takes several tries before she succeeds, and she slides the drawer open slowly, glancing around the empty room before rifling through the contents as neatly as possible.

She comes up empty, and she's working her way through the final two drawers with a sense of urgency, because she calculates she's been searching for about fifteen minutes, and she doesn't think the memory wipe and the unconsciousness will give her more than twenty.

Nothing.

There's nothing.

Either there's a safe hidden in the room, or he doesn't have the report or any of the information on Nick here in the office. She glances around, looking at the portraits and artwork on the wall, and reaches for the nearest one. There's nothing but drywall behind it, and she moves along, fingers running over the edges of the frame, before she comes across what she's looking for: a wall safe with an electronic pass-key behind the portrait of Portland's first mayor.

The bone keys are useless against the technology, and so are her powers, at least at the capacity they're operating at. She tries anyway, trying to get a sense of the fingers on the keys to the code, when her luck—if she had any—runs out.

She lets her hand fall to her side and glances around again, but it's time to get moving, away before she's discovered and she leaves quietly out a side door, her mission unfulfilled.

%%%%

"Dammit," Trubel says when Eve tells her how it went. "We need that file."

"There's got to be another way of obtaining the information we need," Eve says.

"What like a mind meld or something?" Josh says.

Eve and Trubel look at him, considering.

"I'm joking," Josh says at their looks. He glances at them, askance. "You—uh, you can do that?"

Trubel looks at Eve.

"You did turn into him," Trubel says. "That Verfluchte zwilling-whatever."

"It's not the same as a mind-meld," Eve replies.

"Close enough," Trubel replies.

Not really, she thinks. Though she might have the same body, she doesn't share in memories or thoughts or feelings that Renard had prior to the conversion. She's just simply wearing Renard's skin.

"It's not without risks," Eve says. Though the Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester curse has been on her mind more and more lately. Of course it's the reason Eve's Eve, but she's also wondering if her answer to waning powers lies in the curse. Though, she's aware she doesn't know enough about it and the possible side effects to predict what will happen. Though if she transforms into Renard, maybe she won't need a mind-meld anyway. As Renard, she can seek out the information she needs from whatever source.

She hopes it doesn't involve sleeping again with one of Renard's groupies. That had been…different.

"Maybe you wouldn't need access to his memories. If you're Renard, you can just ask someone, right?" Trubel says, obviously on the same wavelength.

Eve nods, mulling the possibility. It's risky, especially with her supposedly helping Renard now. She's with him far more frequently and the opportunity to concoct and enact the spell would be far more limited than last time. She's been leading Renard to believe that her time spent with the scoobies is far more infrequent as she breaks away from them and they shut her out. A bit of a gross exaggeration, but not much she thinks.

"Why can't you try something like you said Diana did?" Josh asks.

"What do you mean?" Trubel says, frowning.

"You said she contacted you and gave you a warning, right? Why can't you try to contact her?"

"My powers are nowhere near as powerful as Diana's," Eve says. "Especially now. What she can do—I don't think there's many, if any, that have her abilities. I wouldn't even know how to do what she did."

Josh frowns in disappointment, and moves on, talking with Trubel about something Hank and Wu are working on and need his help with research, but Eve tunes them out.

Astral projection—what Diana did was incredible and she wasn't lying that when she said her abilities pale in comparison. But there's something niggling in her mind, the comment that has her remembering something else.

Remembering something that happened to her, and had happened to Nick, too, years ago, when he had been afflicted with the curse and had some side effects of his own.

Visions. Headaches.

He had some strange connection with Adalind because of it, the ability to see what she was seeing, to hear her. Possibly to communicate with her, had he thought to, or wanted to, do so.

And because Juliette had also undertaken the curse to undo what Adalind had done to Nick, somehow she was connected, too. What other explanation did she have for Diana being able to telekinetically reach her when she was searching for Adalind.

She wonders if the reverse could be true. Could she somehow reach Diana? Or even Adalind?

How would she even go about something like that?

"What?"

Eve snaps back to the present, noting Trubel and Josh are looking at her curiously. She shakes her head.

"What?" Trubel says again. "You have a weird look on her face."

"I was just thinking…" Eve murmurs.

"…About?" Trubel prompts.

"The curse," Eve says and hesitates when she sees Trubel's confused look.

"When Diana tried to contact Adalind months ago, I saw her. I heard her."

"I remember that. She shattered the mirror in your room," Trubel says.

"Yeah. She was reaching out, trying to find Adalind, and I think because of the curse, somehow Adalind and I and Diana are all linked."

"Right. You said that," Trubel says.

"So, if she has a link to me because of it, maybe I have a link to her. Maybe I can contact her," Eve says slowly.

"How?" Josh says.

"That…I'm not sure. But it's a possibility. A remote one, but maybe it's a way we can use to find out if they're okay. Maybe where they are." Though she's not sure on the finer details on that. Perhaps her better contact would be Adalind, but she feels instinctively that Diana is the one she needs to try to make the connection to. Her powers are strong enough to receive something like that, though the caveat might be whether _her_ powers are strong enough to broadcast something like that.

She mulls this over. It's a troubling consideration and given how many issues she's been having since the stick, she's not sure if she can pull it off. Eve suspects Adalind would know. All those spell books she has, generations of hexes and blood magic passed down. She would have probably have heard of something, but she nods.

"So, how do we do it? Do we do the curse all over again? Do you turn into Adalind?"

"I don't think we'll have to do it all over again." At least she hopes she doesn't. They're missing a key ingredient of the spell, DNA from Adalind, though they might be able to find some around the loft, but she isn't looking forward to the possibility of becoming her long-time nemesis again any time soon. Still, a part of her wonders as Adalind if she'll have the same connection Nick had with her, and thus maybe, despite her misgivings, an easier way of contacting her, or if that connection was one of those side-effects gone haywire because of Nick being a Grimm.

"Don't you need some of her hair, or something?" Trubel asks.

"Might be some around the loft," Josh says skeptically. "Maybe."

"Seriously," Trubel says to Eve. "We need Rosalee for this."

%%%%

"You want to what?" Rosalee says to her, looking at her incredulously.

"Contact—"

"I heard you," she cuts in, closing her eyes for a moment. "I just didn't believe what I had heard."

"You think this will work?" Wu asks, looking excited by the prospect.

"Maybe," Rosalee says, arms crossed over her chest. "I don't know. I'm not sure how we go about it. I mean, it's possible we may have to do the curse all over again," she says, looking worriedly at Eve. "And who knows what side effects it might leave this time."

"Maybe there's a way to do what she's talking about without the curse," Monroe suggests, and he also seems very animated. Only she and Rosalee are more hesitant, perhaps best understanding the difficulty of what they're considering and what's at stake.

"I mean, we're talking a kind of telepathy, right?" Monroe continues.

"Sort of," Rosalee agrees. "I think it's a bit more complicated than that."

"It usually is," Hank agrees. "But, you're right, it might be our best bet of finding Nick. We're still getting nowhere with the information we have."

The information they have is two abandoned vehicles in two different states, forming a sort of linear projection east, but not much beyond that.

Eve nods.

"Can you help me?" she asks Rosalee and Rosalee considers for a moment and then nods.

"I think so. I hope," she says. "It's going to take some research."

"I wish we knew another Hexenbiest," Monroe laments. "Wow, never thought I'd ever say that," he adds.

"I know, this is something we could use some expertise on," Rosalee agrees.

"What about Elizabeth?" Monroe says.

"Renard's mother?"

"She might be able to help."

"Sure, right as she's helping along Renard."

"Honestly, I'm surprised we haven't seen her, or heard about her," Rosalee comments. "Now that he's mayor, and given what's going on, he'd be a much more formidable foe with her supporting him."

"On second thought, maybe not Elizabeth," Monroe says.

Hank shakes his head in agreement.

"He doesn't need any help strengthening his position of power. He needs help getting out of his position of power. I mean, that's ultimately what we're doing here, right?"

Though he looks at the others, it seems to Eve that he's carefully avoiding looking at her, and she thinks about the other's reaction to her looping Renard in on what they know. The seeds of mistrust are quietly sowing, she thinks, and there's a resentful part of her that thinks they only have their selves to blame, before the reasonable part of her squashes it.

"Right," Wu agrees and everyone, including Eve, nods their head.

"We've got a lot of work to do," Rosalee says, turning to Eve.

Eve takes a deep breath.

"Let's get started."

%%%%


	31. Part Seven - Chapter One

AN: A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far-oh, wait. Wrong fandom. Remember this story? (Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Oh, wait. Wrong fandom). Yes, I am still alive (barely)! I am also back from vacation. And we're back with some more story!

%%%%

She manages to smile and not give into the urge to roll her eyes when Nick shows up late from work, sporting an injury to his arm, naturally. In their prior life, she was fairly used to him coming home bruised and beat up from time to time. He's alive, and the injury isn't serious as far as she can tell, and she'll take what breaks she can get. Still, the nagging doubt she has about if this new life experiment is destined for failure intensifies, because many of the same things from their old life keep happening, Nick and wesen getting into it, number one.

He tries to be dismissive of her worry, but she can tell he's concerned, too, especially when he relays that his altercation resulted in the revelation he was a Grimm, and they spend an hour dissecting their options on how to handle the situation.

"It's not good, Nick," she says quietly. "You know how rare Grimms are. For someone to have seen one—it's like sighting Big Foot, or the Loch ness monster, or something. All we know we've heard about from stories and books. The rumor of your existence will spread like wildfire in the wesen community," she says worriedly.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that it will stay a rumor," he says with a sigh.

"Doubtful," Adalind replies. "I mean, likely a lot of people won't believe it, especially since he lived to tell about it. However, the fact he's in the hospital will probably give some weight to the story, and people will wonder. Everyone's guard will be up, looking for signs the enemy's among their midst."

"I know," he says with another sigh, and he looks around the cabin, as though taking inventory. She glances around, too, noting all her hard work in turning the place into something livable, a home for them, and wonders if she's going to have to give it all up to start all over again. This barren and ugly place was just starting to feel like their own. So many milestones achieved here. She thinks of Kelly taking his first steps, his first words, Diana coming to accept Nick, and Nick confessing his love for her. Them starting to feel like a real family.

Will they always be running? She wonders. Will it always be a part of her that can never really settle, never let her guard down completely so long as they're here, or anywhere else. She's forced to admit that they likely will be, if they never want to be discovered. She knew how difficult it would be, to assume this new life, given who and what they both are.

"What are we going to do?" she asks, looking back at Nick. "Are we running? Will we pack up everything up and move again? Where?" It's taken months to amass what little they have. The thought of starting again with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever little they can carry and take with them… And that's assuming Nick won't just ditch it all and completely start fresh. Except this time they barely have any money in reserves to help fund another life on the run.

Nick meets her eyes, looking deep in thought.

"There's other alternatives," he says hesitantly.

"Such as?"

"Making sure he never regains consciousness," Nick says. "Hard to say anything when you're dead."

She stares at him in consternation, trying to will herself not to react.

He's come a long way from the earnest and forthright detective Burkhardt she met all those years ago. She doesn't know why it still takes her by surprise when he suggests something like he's hinting at now. She knows a lot has happened since that day all those years ago, that he's grown into his role as a Grimm, and the expectations that come with it, and the reality they live with in a world inhabited with wesen. The unpleasantness and the violence doled out.

Still, she finds it kind of galling to have him lay it out so bare.

And it is a testament to how far she's come, too, that she would find herself hesitating to agree. She would be lying to say that a part of her would never consider it. Fleetingly it entered her mind, as Nick was explaining what happened, before dismissing it as something unlikely to attempt anyway. It's behavior she avoids reverting back to since discovering a better side of herself. Still she's as protective as he is over what they have, and it's still so fragile, she thinks. The right amount of pressure, applied to the right point and it can all come crumbling down, and she doesn't want to risk it, risk Nick, and her children, and the family they've become. So she understands the desperation and temptation to make those kinds of measures to protect what they have.

Now, though, where she would have been hasty, she's cautious, her mind analyzing the long-term effects of such an action, and whether it would outweigh the risks. She's grown a lot in the last few years. So much has changed in such a short amount of time, though that person she was when she first met Nick seems ages ago.

"We can't risk being exposed," Nick continues. "I'm sure there's still a BOLO out for me, you, and Diana."

And since they're trying to live their life as nobody remotely interesting, certainly not a Grimm shacking up with a Hexenbiest and the children they have as a result, having all eyes on them, or looking for a Grimm in their midst, would certainly put some unwelcome scrutiny on the area.

"Can we risk another dead body?" she points out. "I mean, we're taking a lot of chances to live 'normal,' whatever that is," she says.

"We just don't need to draw attention to ourselves," Nick replies. "If we don't get ahead of this now, this could get ugly real quick."

"Lying low and keeping to ourselves is proving to be a bigger chore than I think either of us anticipated," she remarks. He flicks a critical eye her way and she sighs. "Sorry," she says. There's many reasons for that, not the least of which is her own daughter.

In the end, they agree something has to be done—he's right they can't risk word getting out about a Grimm in their midst, particularly since Nick reveals his coworker Ted is wesen.

"Klaustreich," he says when Adalind asks him what kind.

"That figures," she mutters, twisting her lips. Nick nods slightly. "You're going to have to be very careful," Adalind reminds him.

"Careful is my middle name," Nick replies flippantly, trying for some levity now that their decision has been made, and she gives him a look.

"Well, it's Dave's middle name," he amends and she rolls her eyes. She gestures to his arm.

"Are you sure about that?"

%%%%

She accompanies him to the hospital, though she waits in the jeep, rather than risk being seen wandering the halls, and especially near the room where the injured jagerbar is. It's always his first thought, to protect those he loves, even though she has far more experience with this sort of thing. He doesn't comment on the subtle allusion to how they first met, when she stabbed him with a needle in his aunt's hospital room after he recognized her. He just runs over the steps one more time before handing her the keys to the jeep with an all too brief kiss, and then walking away. He strides briskly along the parking lot, steps intent with purpose, pulling his jacket tightly around him, head ducked low, as much to avoid any one taking note of him as to avoid the frigid wind that whips through, rocking the vehicle occasionally.

He'll be fine, she tells herself. He's more than capable of handling anything that comes his way, though this idea of theirs only works if he's able to sneak in without drawing anyone's attention. He's got strict instructions on how to administer the potion, and she bites her lip, wondering if what they're doing is wise.

It shouldn't be this hard, she thinks. Should it?

They both knew it wasn't going to be easy, to leave everything they know and begin again as somebody else. She notes with surprise that they're nearly a year into this experiment, and she doesn't know whether to call that a mark of success. They've been on the run now for a long time. So much has happened in what feels like a short span of time, but in reality accounts for hundreds of days. They've been Dave and Addy Johnson for over half of it, and have managed to slowly carve out a new existence. She's back to being a stay-at-home mom, at least for the time being, but her family is whole, she has both her children living under one roof, and she's with the man she loves.

The sacrifices are worth it, she tells herself. She can't imagine being without Diana, Nick, and Kelly now, and there's no way she would ever go back to anything that kept her from any of them. This is a bump in the road, and they knew the road to a new life together would be full of them.

Still, she thinks over the last year, still marveling at everything that happened to them since they left Portland. She wonders what changes her friends have seen in that time? How Rosalee is doing, even Hank and Wu and Trubel and all the others. Are they devastated over the loss of Adalind (not likely, she thinks) and Nick? Have they moved on and resumed living their own lives, as Nick hopes and believes.

Does Nick think about them as much as she does?

He hardly ever mentions their friends, and she thinks it as much a technique to remain confident in what they're doing, as it is to remain as much in the characters they've established.

She wonders if he's filled with misgivings as she is, over what they're doing, and how they left things, if he debates over making contact, however brief or risky, just dropping a note to let them know they're alive and okay.

She can't be the only one that still thinks of them, and he gave up far more in the way of friends and support and familiarity when he left Portland with her than she did, though she'd grown comfortable in their life together, and had started to think of his friends as her friends, whether the feeling was mutual or not. She thinks his friends had at least come to accept her in his life, and their lives, and Rosalee had certainly become a friend. Trubel, too, a weird, unspoken understanding lying between them, that she understood Adalind's feelings for Nick were genuine and that it was okay, she was okay, and they were okay.

Okay.

So long as Nick can convince himself that his friends were okay without him, he's fully committed to what they are doing, but Adalind isn't so sure that things are so easy for their friends, given the simmering unrest they fled, and she can't help the guilt she feels at deserting them without so much as a word.

Doesn't he feel guilty? Worried? Concerned? Doesn't he wonder, _really_ wonder, if they're okay?

She asks him when he returns, taking him by surprise as he climbs back into the jeep, the dome light highlighting the pensive and grim expression on his face, before bathing them in darkness when he shuts the door.

"What?" he says after a moment, likely still thinking about the Jagerbar and the potion he just injected. Perhaps he was expecting her to ask how it went, except she figures it went as planned since he wasn't sprinting back out to the parking lot, a mob of doctors and security hot on his heels.

"Do you ever think about the others?" she says again and he stares at her for a moment, a quiet sigh escaping his mouth as he leans against the seat back, staring at the steering wheel, before looking at her. "You know, Monroe and Rosalee. Hank and Wu. Trubel. Bud and Eve, and the guys you worked with on the force."

"Where's this coming from?" he asks. They spent the entire drive here discussing their strategy for getting in and out to the Jagerbar undetected, not reminiscing about their lives, past and present.

"I realized, while I was waiting for you to come back, that we've been doing this for almost a year. Don't you miss them?"

He stares at her for another long moment.

"Of course, but they're doing better off without us."

"Do you really believe that?" she says quietly. He nods after a moment.

"I don't think they're lives are easy, but they have to be easier than when I was still with them. Being a Grimm, it was taking its toll on everyone…especially me."

"I was thinking how much things have changed with us in the last year, and I was wondering what's changed for them in Portland. Have you heard anything?"

He shakes his head.

"No, I haven't had any contact with them since before we left," he replies, "but I have to believe they're okay and they can take care of themselves."

It would certainly make the decision to desert them easier, she thinks, if she could just make herself believe it.

"They might need you."

"Their lives are better off without all the danger I bring to them with my being a Grimm," he says.

"Yeah, but they were okay with that," she points out.

"Were they?" he argues. "Most of them had no idea what kind of shit storm I'd bring into their lives just by knowing me," he says, with a touch of bitterness. "They've all had to deal with added hardships because they're friends with me. Monroe, especially, but Rosalee, too. Constantly disrupting her life, and her business and her marriage to Monroe. Hank—his life has been more difficult because of what I am, and Wu—look what he's dealing with now, his entire life has been turned upside down—all because they're friends with a Grimm, and Eve-" he bites off the rest of his comment, pulling up short.

Yes, Eve.

"I don't think you can say Eve's...Eve, because of you. That was more because of me," Adalind says quietly.

He looks at her for a beat.

"The reason those things happened was because of what I am," he says. "At least with me gone, they have the chance to live their lives in peace, too."

"With an uprising?" she snorts skeptically. "I've seen the newspapers. Wesen are acting up all over Portland. It's your job to keep the Wesen in check—you said your aunt told you, you have to hunt down the bad ones."

"It was Nick Burkhardt's job," Nick replies. "David Johnson only has to worry about putting food on the table and taking care of his family, and he's got plenty of concerns to occupy him there."

"Really? Than what are we doing here, Dave?" she asks bitingly. "If that's all he has to worry about?"

He heaves a sigh and tilts his head away, staring out the window.

"I'm trying to keep you and Kelly and Diana safe. I just want to live our life quietly."

"I know you are," she says seriously. "And I don't want to fight. But surely the last few weeks, if not the last twelve months have demonstrated how hard that is, and how hard it's going to be," she says. "Look at what we've had to deal with already."

"Regretting your decision to run away with me?" He says deprecatingly, glancing back at her.

"Are you?" she counters.

"No," he replies. "I love you. I love Kelly and Diana. Protecting them, and you, are all that matters."

"Wouldn't you agree that we'd have better protection in Portland, with all our friends around us?" She ventures.

"They've sacrificed enough," Nick replies. "And so have I," he adds quietly, looking away. She's silent for a moment, studying his profile, the regretful but resigned look of his face. His thick, dark hair, and the bushy beard that has taken up residence on his cheeks and chin. He's scruffy but as handsome as ever, intense and passionate and determined.

"Is it so wrong to want something for myself," he says in the darkness and the dense quiet that has settled between them. "To want you, and a life with you," and her heart feels a jolt, a quiet thrill at the admission to be wanted by him, "to be happy?"

"No," she whispers hoarsely. She wants those things, too. There's a selfish part of her, warring mightily with the practical part that keeps whispering that this venture is doomed, that these latest episodes with Nick prove that they can't hide what they are. That it's only a matter of time before everything they've built in this last year comes crashing down around them. That selfish part that wants the idyllic life she's dreamed of with Nick—things she never thought she wanted, until she had them: security and love and respect and family and commitment.

"Do you really think we can do this?" she asks and he looks at her as his hand reaches for her face. She leans into the warmth of his palm as his thumb brushes lightly over her cheek.

"Yes," Nick says. "It will calm down. This was an anomaly. We've had a few hiccups here and there, but already we're starting to settle in. Things are quieting down, we just have to be careful. My aunt and mother hid what our family was for decades. Your ancestors have hidden what they were for centuries. We can do this. It's possible to have the life we want, the life we deserve together."

She doesn't point out that all those examples he cited met grisly ends. Instead, she nods, wanting to believe him, before pulling away with a quiet sigh. Nick lets his hand drop in his lap, and rests the other elbow on the window sill of the car door.

"Have you been following what's going on in Portland?" she asks.

He shakes his head again, and looks out the driver side window.

"Bits and pieces," he replies vaguely. "I try not to be too obvious about looking into our old life, but I've been keeping my ears tuned at work."

She's been quietly checking around herself, the newspapers, the internet, whenever she and the kids go to the library or the store.

"There's some strange things in the papers," she says, "You have to really read between the lines, but there's not nearly as much as what I'd thought there'd be," and he nods, turning back to her.

"I'm not sure the rest of the world knows what to make of what's going on," he agrees. "Though it's only a matter of time, I suppose."

Most of the national news seems to be attributing much of the chaos in the northwest to political infighting and mismanagement, but there's also been a few stories that have made the rounds about violent crimes committed, heinous acts, strange claims of otherworldly creatures living among the population. Some of the more sensational rags have latched onto the stories, but due to their long-standing lack of credibility most of it is dismissed as fiction.

She's not sure what's keeping the story of parahuman beings living amongst ordinary people from making headlines, other than some discerning wesen running the papers, who understand the pandemonium they could incite by publishing proof of such stories.

"Did everything go okay?" she asks Nick, getting back to why they're here. He nods again.

"Went off like clockwork," he replies, flashing a grim smile. She thinks of Monroe; wonders if he does too when he turns away from her quickly to stare out the window. He starts the car.

"Come on, it's time to go home."

%%%%

She pushes thoughts of their old life and their friends out of her mind.

She spends the night wrapped in Nick's arms, making love with him, assuaging all her fears and doubts about whether this will work. He's so attentive when he's with her, gentle yet passionate, the sense that he's giving all of himself to her. She loves him so completely. She returns his fervor, leaving them both breathless and sated when they're done.

Nick's certainly lived up to her expectation that he gives as good as he gets in every capacity.

"What?"

He must have noticed her smiling in the darkness.

"Nothing," she says.

"Doesn't look like nothing," he replies. "Definitely looks like something." She shrugs a little and grins.

"I was just thinking about you," she replies and he smiles. "How you never cease to amaze."

"You're welcome," Nick says smugly.

"I wasn't referring to that," she replies. "Or just that," she amends at his look. He raises his eyebrow in polite disbelief.

"Fine, it was mostly that, but you amaze me in other ways."

He looks up at the ceiling. She can just make out the line of his mouth, the hint of fullness in his cheeks that indicate he's still smiling.

"Such as?"

"There's too many to count," she says.

"Just name a few then," he replies, smirking as he rolls over on his side to face her.

"Your ego," she retorts. "I always thought you were a little humbler. Turns out you're as cocky and conceited as the rest of them after a night in the sack."

"Hey, when you do a good job," he says. "It's nice to be appreciated. And you were very appreciative. I really appreciate it," he adds and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly.

"I didn't know you were this playful," she adds, and he reaches a hand out and tickles her, fingers roaming intimately over her body, finding the places that make her squirm, as she swats his hand away. He tucks it back under his pillow and grins. "You always seemed too intense and serious. It's nice to see," she says. The lighter side of Nick is a rare one, and she can only imagine how the last few years have weighed more and more heavily on him. He smiles again and leans over her, body pressing against hers as he covers her mouth with his own and kisses her deeply. She cards her fingers through his hair, enjoying him, before he pulls away.

"Passionate. Considerate. Generous," she says and the smile increases. "Stop it. I'm not just referring to sex," she says, laughing slightly.

"But mostly, right?" he says.

"No. Maybe. Some of the time."

He smirks again, sliding fingers through her own hair.

"I was referring to other aspects. You're a wonderful father," she continues. "Not that I didn't expect it, I guess, I mean, I always figured you take to something like that, but I enjoy seeing how much you delight in Kelly."

"It's nice to get a chance to be a father, and spend some time with him," Nick replies.

"You're so good with Diana, too."

"She's a lot like you," Nick replies.

"Not sure if that's a good thing."

"I think it is," Nick counters. "You're a pretty amazing person yourself."

"Oh yeah?" she says. "Perhaps you should name some things."

"There are too many to count," Nick replies.

"Just name a few then," she returns with a grin and he smiles again.

"I think we were talking about me," he says. "How wonderful I am."

"Right," she says dryly.

"We should probably wrap up that conversation before we start on you. Mine will take longer," he says, eyes glittering in the darkness. She stares at them, imagining the pale green of his irises, the flecks of blue near the pupils.

"You're a wonderful husband," she whispers, daring to say it. It's not real, she reminds herself. They're not really married. She has no idea if Nick's ever thought of her in the capacity of a wife, prior to this insane idea of assuming new identities and a new life. That he would ever consider marrying her, settling down with her in that capacity, after everything they've been through and done to one another.

"Not that I didn't expect you would be, either," she adds.

"I like having a wife," he says. "I enjoy keeping my wife happy. Satisfied."

She rolls her eyes again, but finds herself drawn into his eyes.

"It's not that surprising, except maybe it's surprising that it _isn't_ surprising, I guess. You get me," he says. "Despite everything, all our history, it feels natural to think of you as such and refer to you that way. Like it's a logical step for us. We have a baby. A family. I mean, we totally went about it in a completely, insane, disorganized way, but it works and I wouldn't trade what we have for the world. Maybe we should consider doing that for real. I mean, if David and Addy don't work out. Nick and Adalind definitely should think about it."

"Seriously?" she says, heart beating wildly in her chest. He shrugs, trying for nonchalant, but there's a jerkiness to the motion, an underlying emotion underneath.

"Yeah," he says. She stares at him, willing herself not to react, trying to affect his cool. "Of course, if it was real, you wouldn't be wearing that thing," Nick says, fingers brushing against the ring Bonaparte bestowed on her. "I'd make sure it was something as beautiful as you are."

She glances down at her hand, heart still pounding in her chest. She's never hated that ring more than what she does right now. She wants to rip it off, fling it across the room, but she can't, can't risk what it might do to her or her children, and it weighs like a two-ton stone on her finger.

"You really think the stick will work on it?" she asks Nick.

He shrugs again.

"I don't know," he admits. "Hexes and spells are really more your area of expertise. I don't know enough about them, or the stick and what it can do, to say one way or the other. I'm scared to try. I don't want anything to happen to you, or our children, but I don't want to be burdened for the rest of our lives with that thing, either."

Our children. It's always so incredible to hear him say that, the ease with which he says it, that he includes Diana so readily in it.

"We need to find out more," she says with a sigh, rolling on her back for her turn to stare at the ceiling. The cool air of the night hits the damp, exposed skin, and she shivers slightly and wiggles further under the covers. A second later she feels one of Nick's fingers brush delicately against her arm. "I wish I had some of my mother's spell books with me. There might be something there."

"About the stick?" Nick says in surprise, finger brushing lightly against the inside of her elbow. There's a latent intent about the gesture, a hint of what he means to do, and she shivers again, this time in anticipation.

"About the spell Bonaparte used."

"Hm," Nick says, finger sweeping against her skin, and goosebumps pop out all over her arm. She stares up at him, eyes inviting, her body pliant, waiting for what he means to do. She knows what he means to do. She can feel warmth pool in her abdomen as he regards her. "I suppose we can worry about that a little later. Right now, I believe it's my turn to wax poetic about all your beauty and charms, unless you have more to add."

"I confess I'm curious as to what you're going to say," she says, voice slightly breathless. He smiles slowly, and more warmth gathers below. God, she needs him to touch her. She shifts restlessly, impatient, and the slow smile widens lasciviously, as he looks her over, considering the possibilities as she waits for him to take her. "Nick," she breathes, and the look in his eyes deepens, a hint of the love he feels for her shining through, as a hand moves up to slide through her hair, cupping the side of her face.

"You can't believe how much I love you," he says quietly, body shifting slightly, preparing to move, to cover hers.

"Try me," she whispers.

He smiles again softly, eyes trailing over her face, her body, before glancing back to meet her gaze, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"You know, it might be better If I show you."

%%%%


	32. Part Seven - Chapter Two

AN: It's late, I know. I blame work. It might be more realistic to go to every two weeks a posting, but we will see.

%%%%

She comes awake slowly, body spent, and she feels a smile curl along her lips on she reflects as to why.

Nick.

She can hear him rustling around the loft, getting ready for work, and then feels the mattress dip down beside her.

"I can see you smiling," he remarks, and she can't help the grin that widens. She murmurs contentedly as she burrows into her pillow.

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Wake up." He bends down to place a kiss on her cheek, and she turns her head and finds his mouth. She stretches luxuriously as they deepen the kiss and she wraps her arms around his neck.

"Why don't you stay home, and keep me company today," she says when they break apart and he flashes a high wattage grin at her in response.

"Can't," he replies, and they both know that's true.

"You didn't finish your demonstration," she replies, pouting prettily.

"You really think after last night you can go another couple of rounds with me," he asks and she smiles coyly. She can feel warmth pool in her abdomen again, between her legs, as she recalls their night spent together.

"Why? Are you not up to it?" she challenges. She slides a handful playfully down his abdomen, lower, and finds he's more than up to it.

"I don't want to over-do it, in case you need a reprieve."

"No worries about that. Besides, I might have just been going easy on you."

"That would be a first," he says, and her grin widens. God, she feels up for a furious coupling, her body craving his touch, and she doesn't think Nick's all that opposed to what she's suggesting and the possibility of being late for work.

She leaves her hand where it is, stroking him lazily, as Nick stares down at her, weighing his options.

She can't describe how it feels to be wanted so badly by him. She's been wanted and desired by plenty of men in her lifetime, but his desire is the only one that moves her to feel like this.

"At least give me something to get through the morning," she says. "To make it easier to count the hours of the day until you're back."

It's a little bit corny and dramatic, she thinks, but it's said with all the breathless passion and urgency she feels at the thought of being without him like this. She's so ready, waiting for him to resume his passionate lovemaking, her body throbbing with need.

She removes her hand, flicking it carelessly to the side in a simple yet complicated gesture and a button on his shirt comes undone. She does it again, and another follows. Nick looks down, following the gestures and the progress as she slowly works her way down his shirt, flinging her arm aside when she reaches the last one as his shirt flies open.

"That… is about the sexiest thing I've ever seen," Nick comments, and she smiles victoriously.

"To think, I haven't even gotten to your pants yet," she reminds him, and he raises an eyebrow in response. She grins wickedly.

There are some incredibly fun aspects to be a hexenbiest, and though he knows and accepts what she is, she thinks it time she shares a few of the lighter ones with him.

%%%%

She sends him off to work with a smile on his face, the big, slightly dopey, grin making her smile. He's all apologies and promises for leaving her as he hurriedly kisses her goodbye, and she figures she's scored some bonus points she can redeem later when she needs or want something from him.

He manages to return home from work that night without a mark on him, and she makes sure to check him over thoroughly in bed that night, picking up where they left off from the morning. Her subtle yet obvious look over elicits amusement from Nick.

"It's not funny," she says sharply and he wipes the smile from his face and shakes his head in agreement.

"I am one hundred percent fine," he says. Given what they just did, she'd have to agree. "You don't have to worry."

"How was Ted?" she asks him and he sobers a little.

"Distant," Nick says. "He's avoiding me, I think."

She's not sure what that means and Nick shakes his head again when she posits the question.

"I don't know. I don't think he's aware I'm a Grimm, but I think he knows something's not adding up about me."

"That could be a bigger problem than the Jagerbar," she says, and he sighs.

Still, things at work remain fairly quiet for Nick over the next several weeks, and she dares to slowly let out the breath she's been holding. They fall back into the routine of boring and normal, as Nick goes about the day to day drub of being a game warden and Adalind takes care of things at home.

It's another day in the cabin, tending to the children and trying not to go insane in such a confined and isolated place. Their days are mostly structured. School for Diana in the mornings and then chores and other tasks in the afternoon. Diana and Adalind, with Kelly strapped to her back in a harness, generally take an hour or so long hike around the property and the hillside to get away from the monotony of the four walls.

They're enjoying the freedom of the outdoors while they still can. Winter's nearly here, and Adalind hopes they don't have one like last year, so long and brutal. She understands that winters are generally harsh and snowy, but that last year was an exception. Still, she feels she's better prepared for the hardships they may face now after having lived through one. There's some food if they're snowed in, a contingency plan for what to do with the kids and the cabin fever that eventually sets in. Firewood and supplies if they're forced to stay inside a while.

They crunch through the fallen leaves, Diana on the lookout for some wildflowers that may still be lingering. Kelly babbles excitedly as they make their way haltingly through the woods, talking more and more, however mostly indecipherable his chatter is.

"What about this one?" Diana asks, pointing at an orange flower.

"That's a good one," Adalind says.

"Do you think Nick will like it?"

"I'm sure he will, especially if you like it," Adalind says. Diana and Nick are far more at ease with each other now that they've had months to get used to one another. She thinks it helps Diana to see how happy Adalind is with Nick, how Nick cares for and dotes on them all. After he learned how much Diana enjoys the swings at the park he hung a tire swing from one of the trees on the property near the cabin so that Diana can swing on it to her heart's content. There's a genuineness about Nick that can't be ignored.

Diana waits for him to come home, skipping out to meet him, Kelly too, trailing unsteadily and more slowly behind his sister, usually voicing a complaint of protest at the unfairness of it all that Diana gets to greet Nick home first, as Nick smiles affectionately at Diana, before dropping his warden hat lopsidedly on her head and scooping up Kelly.

A kiss for each of the children, one for his wife, waiting and watching from the porch. He has quite the welcoming committee, she thinks ruefully. Diana takes the time it takes to walk with Nick from the car to Adalind to start filling him in about their day, Nick listening patiently as Kelly jabbers, too, before he catches Adalind's eye and smiles at her.

The awkwardness between them has evaporated, leaving room for easy teasing from Nick, and a beautiful, child-like sweetness from Diana.

Diana selects the biggest and brightest of another grouping they come across of orange flowers from the bunch, before deciding on two more, and they continue on their hike, finding a purple flower, and three white daisies and a couple of yellow ones. Flowers selected, she uses her powers to telekinetically wrap the stems with a large leaf and some vine. That done, she hands the bunch to Adalind.

"Be careful," she warns, and Adalind nods solemnly, a smile threatening at the seriousness of the command.

"Are these for Nick?" Adalind asks and Diana nods. "Well, then I'll guard them with my life."

Diana turns back to the business now of gathering leaves, and there's plenty on the forest floor now that winter is threatening. She finds several yellow ones, a handful of green, some red, and plenty of dried up brown ones as they continue their trek in the woods.

"Can we go to the park with Jessie?" Diana asks.

"I'm sure we can arrange a playdate sometime," Adalind says. "Maybe next weekend."

They have to meet on the weekends since Jessie, and the rest of Jake's daughters, are all enrolled in school or preschool, and week nights are school nights for them. Even though a year has passed, she still feels it's too early to try that experiment with Diana, especially since she thought she detected some jealousy from Diana when Diana was relaying to her one day that Jessie had a new friend from school named Charlotte Tree Feather.

She's gotten better at controlling some of her impulsive behavior during the time she and Adalind have had to work out how to behave among the general population, though she's still prone to the fits of a child. She desperately wants friends. It gives Adalind hope that maybe in another year she'll be ready to try to assimilate into a school. Maybe she can find a daycare for Kelly, or better yet, a place that will let her keep him with her, like her old job.

Maybe she could find a job as a paralegal, or a legal secretary or something. She mulls this over as Diana bends down to select another leaf for her collection, this one a deep, deep red, almost like a wine. It might be too risky to choose something so close to her true background. She thinks again of the ski lodge nearby. She could try a job out for the season there, test the waters. She can be a receptionist, or bookkeeper, or maybe an activities coordinator.

Hell, at this point, she'd be happy for the opportunity just to hand out skis.

"Do you think the next time we go to town that we can see a movie?"

"A movie?" Adalind asks in surprise.

"I've never seen one at the theatre. Jessie says when she and her sisters go with her mom they get popcorn and candy."

A movie. How nice would it be just to enjoy a show and forget about life for a couple of hours? They don't have a television, and she doesn't recall much time spent in front of one at the mayor's mansion, though they were hardly there long enough to want to settle in for one anyway.

"We could get popcorn and jelly beans, and Kelly could come, too."

"Kelly might be a little young, yet, for a movie."

Diana shrugs, turning to look at her with eager eyes.

"Can we go?"

It sounds enticing. Maybe Nick could take care of Kelly one Saturday, and Diana and Adalind could go enjoy themselves for a little while. Have some dinner before, or an ice cream after. Maybe they could even all go, Kelly, too, and have a nice family outing.

"We'll see," is what she says. "Maybe we can go before the winter sets in."

"Jessie says she's going to be in a ballet for Christmas," Diana imparts, turning to trudge through the woods again.

"I know, her mom invited us to come see her and her sisters perform. That should be fun."

"So we can go?"

"I hope so," Adalind says. She's always hesitant to commit to plans, especially any too far in advance since she never knows what the future will bring. Though things have been fairly calm as of late, there's always that undercurrent of worry that it will blow up again in a big way, especially with Nick. She's not friends with any wesen here, so she can only hope the potion they gave the Jagerbar did its job and no one's aware that a Grimm is among their midst. But since she's been careful not to make too many friends, she doesn't know many wesen to ask if there's any news they should all be worried about.

There's Ted, which is completely out of the question since she'd have to reveal what she is. The vendor she met at the flea market, but he wasn't at the last one, and he's not from the area, so she doesn't reckon that he would be the best source for that information either.

There was the maushertz she saw at the church store, but again, it's been months since she's been there and she's not sure if the lady didn't lose her nerve and go back to her abuser. Maybe she moved. Maybe she's dead.

Diana isn't as concerned with discovery as Adalind is, as she continues to talk about various topics as she gathers leaves on their hike. Kelly doesn't seem to be particularly worried, either, making sounds of excitement as he bounces along in his harness, catching sight of the wonders of the forest.

"Do you think Daddy misses us?" Diana asks suddenly, yanking Adalind back to the present.

She almost stammers, "Who?" because for so long, Adalind's only associated Nick with that role, but she fortunately catches herself.

"I—I'm sure he probably does," Adalind ventures. "Why? Do you miss him?"

"Yeah," Diana says. "Sometimes. Like, I know that Nick's favorite flower is bitterroot," Diana says. "But I don't know what daddy's favorite flower is."

Nick's favorite flower likely coincides with one he's able to name without knowing what grows in Montana, and since Bitterroot was Montana's highly prevalent state flower - as was noted on a poster in the game warden office - that's the response he went with when Diana presented him with a handpicked bunch she had found one summer's day. Thus, began the weekly search for more on their sojourns to a vase of flowers on the table refreshed, which was where Adalind deposited them after Diana presented them to Nick and Nick presented them to Adalind for care and safekeeping.

"Do you know what it is?" Diana asks.

"Umm, no, I'm not sure," Adalind replies.

"Maybe I can ask him," Diana says and Adalind halts in her tracks. It's said so nonchalantly.

 _She can't be_ , she thinks. If she was in contact with Sean in anyway, there's no way they'd remain undetected for this long. Would they?

"Diana," she says carefully. "You're not contacting your dad after we—I—told you not to," she asks, and Diana slows, and then turns.

"I'm very careful," Diana says. Blood drains from Adalind's face, and she takes a halting step forward. "He doesn't know it's really me," Diana says at the look Adalind's giving her.

"What do you mean?" she says.

"He thinks he's dreaming, and I'm really quick."

"What?" Adalind whispers. "Diana…Diana…tell me what's going on. I promise I won't be mad, but I need to know what's going on. What are you talking about? Have you been communicating with your dad?"

"No, not really. I just wanted to make sure he's okay. You said he's surrounded by bad people, so I wanted to make sure nothing terrible happened to him."

Adalind stares at her daughter in growing horror. Oh, God. Oh, god, oh, god. Have they been compromised?

"Does he know where we are?"

She realizes she's voiced the question out loud when Diana answers.

"No."

"Diana, how many times have you contacted your father? I'm not…I'm not mad," she adds, her voice sounding sharp to her own ears. "I just need to make sure that nothing…nothing's going to happen to us. That you and Kelly are safe. How many times have you spoken with him? In your…his...dreams," she says.

"Only a couple. I told him we're okay and not to worry and that we'll be together soon."

Oh, god. Oh, god, oh, god, oh god.

"How long has this been going on?" she asks her daughter.

Diana shrugs. "I don't know."

"Since we left Portland?" Diana shrugs and nods. "Since I told you not to?" she adds with as much neutrality as she can muster, but she's fighting a roller coaster of emotions and it's hard to stay calm. Diana nods again, a touch of guilt.

"Okay," Adalind manages to say. "How many times?"

"Only a couple," Diana replies.

"A couple. Two times?" Adalind inquires. Two times isn't bad, she tells herself.

"Three...or four," Diana hedges.

"Four!" Adalind exclaims. Four times Diana's been in contact with Sean, risking their lives, their new identities and she's been none-the-wiser. It's shocking and terrifying, and it burns. So much is happening right under her own nose and she's not even aware of it. Nick with a magical stick. Diana and her powers running amok.

"Are you mad, mommy?" she asks worriedly. Adalind slowly shakes her head.

"No, no, of course you were worried, but Diana, I specifically told you not to contact your dad. Things aren't safe for you, or me, or Nick or Kelly, if your dad knows where we are."

"I was very careful," Diana protests.

"I'm sure you were," Adalind replies soothingly, but she wonders how cautious Diana would even know to be. "But it doesn't change the fact you disobeyed me. I'm trying to protect you, and I'm trying to protect your brother, and when I tell you something, I need to trust that you will follow it to the letter. I couldn't live if something happened to you or Kelly or Nick."

Diana looks crestfallen. She adores her mother, and though there have been a rare, few times they've been out of sorts, she's generally very eager to please Adalind.

"Come on," Adalind says, gesturing for her to move past. "It's time we head home. Nick will be home soon and he'll be wondering where we are."

"Are you going to tell Nick what I did?" Diana asks, sounding upset at the prospect of disappointing another adult. "Is he going to be mad at me, too?"

"Nobody's mad at you, sweetheart. Let's talk about it when we get home, okay?"

%%%%

"She what?" Nick says, staring at Adalind in disbelief.

"Shhh!" Adalind shushes him. "Keep your voice down. She's very upset. She knows she disobeyed me and she's worried we're mad at her."

"Adalind," Nick begins, but he doesn't say anything for a second, and that worries Adalind since that means he's choosing his words. He's figuring out what he wants to say because he knows she's not going to like what he says.

"Adalind, that's not good. How's she been contacting him?"

"Probably the same way she contacted you. Telepathy, astral projection. I don't know. She says Sean thinks he's dreaming."

"Well, he's got to know it's real, somehow."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I don't think Sean had a lot of time to learn what all Diana is capable of doing."

"Well, he had time to learn she can suffocate people in their beds, or force them into doing things they have no control over!" Nick hisses.

"That's not fair," Adalind says and Nick takes a breath. It's not fair, but it's true.

"She's not listening to you, that's concerning," Nick says.

"She only checked in on him a handful of times, and like I said, he just thinks he's having some strange dreams. If he had any idea where we are, don't you think we'd know about it?"

Nick says nothing, staring at her for a moment. "When was the last time she checked in on him?"

"She says it was a few months ago."

"Adalind," Nick says. "She can't be doing that."

"I know!" Adalind snaps. She doesn't like how he seems to be dancing around what he wants to say. They can't control her. That they—she—had no idea what Diana was doing and now they might be at risk. Once again she's contemplating if they should pack up now, or leave everything and just start running.

"What else has she been doing we don't know about?" Nick asks with a sigh and Adalind flicks angry blue eyes at him.

"I don't know. There seems to be a lot of secrecy going on lately, doesn't there?"

Nick sighs again and gives her a look.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about the stick, but I don't have any other secrets I've been keeping from you. I promise you."

"I know. I'm sorry," Adalind says. "Sniping at each other isn't going to help anything. I'm sorry I said that. If anything, she's just proving she's like her mother. I've kept a lot of secrets from people, too."

"We're past all that," Nick says and Adalind nods. "We've done pretty well on not dwelling on the things we did before. Let's just focus on the here and now. What else do you know about these "visits?" Nick asks. "What did she tell you?"

"Mostly that she just looks in on him, usually at night."

"And he's alone?" Nick snorts.

"I guess. She didn't say he wasn't. I think she's just trying to make sure he's alive and okay. She mentioned that we had said he was surrounded by bad people. She's worried about him."

Nick nods.

"And you're positive she's had no interaction with him during these visits?"

"No," Adalind says. "She says she's told him we're okay and not to worry, so I don't know how much talking they do in these dreams."

"You think that's all she told him?" Nick asks seriously and Adalind shrugs, wishing she had an answer she was confident of.

"I don't know," she admits. "I don't think she gave him anything he can use to find us."

"Let's hope not," Nick says, looking pensive.

"Nick, what are we going to do?" Adalind asks him and Nick crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm worried. Do you think we should leave?"

"And go where? What good will it do, if she continues to contact him?" Nick asks. "She can't contact him anymore," he says. "Every time she does it puts us at risk. Renard's a good investigator. Even if he thinks they're dreams, at some point he's going to start wondering if his subconscious is trying to tell him something. He'll start picking his memory apart of them and start noticing details. Enough details and he might be able to figure out where we are."

That's what she's afraid of.

"She won't contact him anymore," Adalind says, but the promise rings hollow. She thought she was clear on the no-contact order before and now this. How will she know for sure that Diana hasn't defied her? She meets Nick's solemn gaze.

"She won't," she says again. "She knows how disappointed I am that she disobeyed me. She's worried that you're upset with her. She won't do it again."

Nick nods slightly after a moment.

"We need to talk to her."

%%%%

The talk with her and Nick and Diana went, well, as predicted. Nick was understanding and gentle as he listened to her, but he was also firm in the resolution it was for everyone's good that she not contact Renard or anyone else she may have known in Portland.

Though Nick makes no mention of the stick, or her powers, it's all Adalind can think of and as they lie in bed, waiting for the sleep to take them that seems a long time coming, Adalind voices the thought that's rebounding all over her head.

"Do you think we should be looking at a suppressant?" she asks him in the darkness. She knows he's awake, she can tell by his breathing, but it's a long time before he answers.

"I don't know," he says. "I don't know what the right answer is. If the situation wasn't what it is, if we weren't trying to avoid detection, and if Diana wasn't a critical weapon in a wesen revolution, I would say for us not to be hasty. She's a child. She could do great good with her powers, if we have enough time to work with her. I just don't know whether Renard or anyone else will give us that time."

Adalind rolls on her side to face him. He's doing his time honored act of staring at the ceiling, and she reaches a hand out from under her chin and traces the line of his jaw.

"Let's not do anything just yet," he sighs. "Like you, I don't think she'll go against our wishes again."

There's not anything they can do anyway, she thinks. Even if the answer was a suppressant, as Nick pointed out once before, they don't have a key ingrendient: a dead hexenbiest who's been in the ground for a while. She doesn't even know where to look, and she resolves to do some research about local lore and witches.

Still, just because someone labels you a witch doesn't mean you're a hexenbiest. Finding that information out is difficult, and means befriending wesen, and particularly, wesen who might be hexenbiests themselves.

Or, finding an apothecary that deals in dead hexenbiests and those are incredibly few and far between, mostly because any hexenbiest that's alive that discovers you're dealing in their brethren usually takes care that you never live to deal another dead hexenbiest again.

There are a few that exist, despite the danger, though Adalind's never dealt with any personally. And she can't use all her normal avenues of contact since that would likely mean revealing her whereabouts, or the fact she's still alive and well, and living under an assumed name in the United States.

Regardless, she spends the next couple of weeks, researching local lore about witchcraft and covens and visiting a few local graveyards. All her efforts turn up jack with a side of squat, and she pulls out the business card she took from the apothecary she met months ago at the indoor flea market and contemplates contacting him for assistance in procuring the ingredients she would need.

Those kind of ingredients, even if he can find them, will be costly and she thinks it's not a cost they can afford, though they've leveled out on major purchases for the most part. Still, some months they're struggling to get by as they try to scrimp and save in case they have to do it all over again, and last month the jeep broke down. It's already thirty years old, she's not sure how much more life they can squeeze out of it, before the very real possibility of having to purchase another vehicle is upon them.

She's pondering their finances and the conundrum she has as she and Diana and Kelly take one of their hikes around the property. Diana's preoccupied as usual with finding the perfect fall flowers for Nick, and having finally found them and passed on to Adalind for safe keeping, she's gathering leaves again as Kelly enjoys the cool fall day.

She wonders how long the landlord will let them rent. She thought he might be getting antsy about offloading the place entirely, and she wonders if she and Nick should approach him about buying it.

Then again, they don't have any money to buy it with, and a loan is likely out of the question, since it means going down to the bank and submitting all their fake paperwork to obtain one, inviting another risk of scrutiny and discovery.

And, she reasons, why buy the place when they may have to abscond in the middle of the night, never to see it ever again?

Still, he could, in theory, rip the rug out from under them and that would mean moving, too. She wonders if that happened if she could convince Nick to move closer to Whitefish or maybe Kallispell. Or would they just move somewhere else altogether?

"I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Hmm?" Adalind replies, focusing on what Diana's saying. She's not looking at her mother though. In fact, she's stopped, standing stock-still in the forest, her back to Adalind. "Diana?"

"Leave me alone," Diana says and Adalind frowns. There's a strange buzzing in the air, rattling her eardrums with the pressure. "I'm not supposed to talk to anyone," Diana says coldly. "I remember you. You did a bad thing."

What?

"Diana?" Adalind says. "Diana, answer me." She starts making her way to her daughter when Diana speaks.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screams, eyes electric purple. The ground quakes, the leaves in the forest cascading off the trees like fireworks, and it's like a storm sweeping through. For a moment, there's so many falling to the ground that Adalind can't see in front of her, and she has to pause to maintain her balance. She hears Kelly make a sound of distress, but right now she's trying to keep sight of her daughter.

"Diana? Diana!"

The rumbling abruptly stops and Adalind finds Diana on her hands and knees in the dirt.

"Diana! Diana!" Hurrying as quick as she can to her daughter, she leaps over a fallen tree trunk, mindful of Kelly strapped to her as he accentuates her movements with echoes of alarm. She kneels down, trying to remain upright enough that Kelly doesn't tip out of his harness. Leaves flutter off of her, and Diana's covered in some as well. It's then that Adalind distantly registers that all the trees in the immediate vicinity are completely bare of leaves, but she doesn't have time to process any more than that.

"Diana! Are you hurt?" she cries, looking her daughter over. She slides a hand through her daughter's blonde hair, brushing a couple of leaves off her shoulders. Diana looks up, eyes still possessing their lilac halo.

"Diana? Are you hurt?" Adalind repeats urgently and Diana shakes her head in the negative. Adalind breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay, well, stand up. Slowly."

Diana does as she asks, and Adalind runs her eyes carefully over her daughter. There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with her; still, Adalind runs her hands over her, cupping her face with both hands when she's done.

"You're sure?" And Diana nods again. "Okay. What just happened?"

"I didn't want to talk to her. I don't like her mommy," Diana says, looking up.

Adalind's blood freezes and she has to catch her breath for a second before she speaks.

Her.

Her?

"Who? Someone tried to contact you?"

Diana nods.

"Who?" Adalind breathes.

"She did something terrible."

"Diana, who are you talking about? Did you see them? Did they talk to you?"

Diana nods and the chill in her veins drops another twenty degrees. That means another hexenbiest. Somebody aware of her daughter, what she is. Perhaps how powerful. Someone who wants Diana.

Oh, god. Could it mean Elizabeth?

She wonders if Nick wasn't right, that Sean was well aware that visits from her daughter weren't just dreams or fits of his imagination.

She remembers Nick mentioning that she wasn't the only one who was searching for Diana after she disappeared. Sean's mother was also very insistent on finding her only grandchild. It was only a matter of time before she returned, especially since her son was now mayor. Likely she swooped in only days after he was sworn in, if not before.

But especially after Adalind and Nick disappeared with his daughter, she suspects.

Elizabeth was the only one she knew of who would possess the knowledge and the skill to do something like that, though that kind of connection was extremely dangerous for both parties involved and she glances sharply again at her daughter, angry that Elizabeth would risk doing that to a child, especially her own grandchild. Perhaps she's heard of all the things Diana's shown herself capable of, but it still sets a deep, simmering burn in her body, as sharp as the ice she felt, that she would still risk it.

Sean's desperate and once again, his wants and desires outweigh the health and safety of his daughter and everyone else around him. _He doesn't care about any one_ , she thinks, fuming. _So long as he gets what he wants._

"Come on, I think it's time we head home," Adalind says as neutrally as possible, trying to keep the emotions bottled up. She holds out her arm for Diana, brushing her hand along her back to guide her forward and they begin retracing their steps back to the cabin.

It's then that Adalind really notices how bare the trees are now. Nothing, not a leaf anywhere, and they shuffle noisily along their makeshift path, as though they were wading through snow. The ground is covered in foliage, looking like fall confetti.

"Do you still have Nick's flowers?" Diana asks suddenly and Adalind glances down at her hands. They're empty and she realizes she dropped them.

"I'm sorry, honey. I must have dropped them. We can pick some more for him another day, or maybe we can find some new ones on our way back."

Diana searches through the debris, using her powers to sweep the leaves up in a tiny whirlwind before she cast them aside. Kelly squeals with joy at the sight.

Adalind can't take her her mind off what just happened. This is a threat she should have seen coming, she thinks. Why didn't she better prepare herself for it? But she wonders what she could have done to prevent it. The only thing she could do to keep someone from doing that is to change what Diana is.

A suppressant.

A spell, or potion, maybe, but she can't imagine subjecting her daughter to either.

Now she may not have a choice. She may be forced to take drastic measures, drastic decisions, to protect her daughter.

She remembers the conversation she and Nick had, how it's so unlikely that Diana will ever have the chance to be a little girl with everyone's interest in her and her abilities. She thinks of the conversations she had with Diana, wanting to see a movie, play with her friend, perhaps do something as mundane as participate in a dance recital without it having to be planned and prepped for like a battle in a war.

She wonders if it wouldn't be wiser to do something that will settle the argument once and for all. Something that will ensure that the only people who are interested in Diana are the ones who love her and have her best interests at heart.

Maybe something permanent.

%%%%


	33. Part Seven - Chapter Three

Nick notices the trees right away.

He gets out of his park-issued truck and glances around him, looking up, noting the skeletal trees, as he frowns. She hadn't realized how many were affected by what happened but she guesses as she looks around, too, there's at least a one-mile radius of naked trees around their property.

Adalind's the only one who's waiting for him tonight, a fact he takes note of as he looks around. He slowly shuts the car door and the frown deepens.

"Are you all right?" he asks when he reaches her. She must look a sight, worried and grim-mouthed herself. She shakes her head.

"Something happened," Adalind says. Nick looks around the property again.

"Did that something have something to do with this?" He pulls his eyes back to Adalind. "Diana?"

"I think you should have a seat," she says, indicating the stoop on the porch. Nick glances at the spot she's indicating and claims a spot on the right. Adalind makes to sit down beside him before thinking better of it and instead paces in front of him, too tightly wound to sit still.

"What happened?"

"We were on our hike," she says as Nick nods. "And I think someone used some spell work to contact her."

"What? Who?"

"I think it might have been Elizabeth," she confesses worriedly.

"Elizabeth?" he repeats slowly, before he catches up. "Renard's mother?"

Adalind nods.

"Think about it. The kind of spell where you could do that would require some skill. She's the only one who's knowledgeable enough and probably powerful enough, or could make herself powerful enough, to do it. Not to mention she's a blood relative, which helps. Having some kind of connection like that is critical to it working."

"You think she's looking for Diana."

"Obviously! We know Sean has to be. He's apparently not getting anywhere. Honestly, I'm surprised he didn't have her try something like this sooner," Adalind says, nervously twisting the ring on her finger absently.

"Do you know how she did it?"

"I've heard about ways like that. I've never done one, or attempted something like that myself."

"Was it like when Diana contacted me to warn me about Bonaparte?"

"Sort of," she says, voice rising on the last syllable, almost like a question. "But not really. I think this is more like when you and I had that weird connection after I used the spell to take your Grimm away. I could see what you could see and you could see what I was seeing."

"The Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester," Nick says without any inflection and Adalind nods. "Elizabeth would certainly be familiar with it. Do you think she was able to see anything?"

"We were in the woods, so likely all she saw were trees. Diana wasn't facing me, so I don't even know if she saw me before the connection broke, but it's possible. I'm sure she heard me. I'm pretty sure I was yelling."

"And breaking the connection with Diana...?"

Adalind gestures to their surroundings.

"Wow," Nick says looking around again. "She's okay? You're sure?"

"Yeah, she seems to be," Adalind replies with a relieved sigh before turning serious again. "Nick, that type of spell is incredibly dangerous."

"I know," Nick replies, a touch drily. "I've had some experience with it."

Right. Yes, of course he's well aware of the dangers it presents. The visions, for lack of a better term, though what they were seeing was real. The accompanying skull-splitting headaches.

What it did to Juliette.

"You really think it was Elizabeth?" Nick asks her.

"Who else can it be?" Adalind replies. Nick shrugs.

"It's just, you mention how dangerous it is and, I mean, she doesn't strike me as someone who's ignorant of the dangers of that spell, and the risks she would be taking to her only granddaughter. Are hexenbiests the only ones who would know about that spell?"

"No, I suppose not, but it's not a common spell. The likelihood that your average wesen would know about it is pretty slim. If it's not Elizabeth, then it's someone who possesses some skill in spell work. Maybe Sean found someone else besides his mother to help him."

Nick nods slightly, considering.

"Is there any way to prevent what happened from happening again?" Adalind shrugs and bites her lip.

"A suppressant might," Adalind says. "Maybe."

She stares at Nick, choosing her words, as Nick meets her gaze.

"You're not serious," he says, looking at her, surprised. "Diana?"

"I know I've been hesitant about doing anything like that, but maybe we need to look at that option more seriously. I'm scared they'll try it again now that they know it can work. What if whoever it is does something next time that does hurt her? Or leads to discovering us?" She looks away for a moment, unable to stand his penetrating stare, feeling like it's censure, though his expression remains neutral as he listens. A moment of silence passes between them, Adalind kicking at a pebble near the toe of her shoe before Nick speaks again.

"Even if we were to seriously consider it, where are we going to find a not-recently dead hexenbiest for a suppressant?" he asks.

"I know," she says, rubbing a hand across her forehead. "But I _am_ seriously considering it, Nick. I don't know how else to protect our daughter, especially from something like this."

She risks a look at Nick, to see how he's processing this, pale green eyes locked on her, handsome, grizzled face serious and concerned. He's starting to get some gray in his beard, she notices, not many, just a couple of random white whiskers. A tangible sign of the toll this life on the run and in hiding is taking, she thinks, though he's on the dark side of his thirties now. She takes a deep breath and presses on.

"I've been trying to do some research about the area over the last few months, especially after you got hurt up in the mountains. Just researching different things, but especially the local lore about witches, that kind of thing, in the area. There have been a few I think, based on the stories, that might fit the bill for a hexenbiest, but lots of people have been accused of being a witch without actually being a hexenbiest. Not to mention, even if we find a dead hexenbiest how are we going to dig it up? I mean, what reason would we have to exhume the body? And if we can't do it by legal means, then that means we're going to have to look at other ways. I mean, you and I and a couple of shovels, spending the night at a cemetery digging up a body? And what are we supposed to do with the kids? Bring them along for a fun-filled family night of a little grave desecration and robbery? We need to look at other alternatives."

"What other alternatives are you suggesting?" Nick replies.

"Well, I have a couple of ideas. There might be a contact I came across a long time ago—a wesen apothecary who sometimes had a booth at the flea market when we first moved here. He'd be our best bet to get the ingredients we need if we can't find them ourselves."

"You think he can drum us up a dead hexenbiest?" Nick retorts skeptically.

"We don't need the whole hexenbiest. Just a few things: Tongue, a few ribs, gallbladder and liver."

"Lovely," Nick says. "How much would that cost?"

"A lot," Adalind admits. "Those ingredients are rare. Knowledge of the suppressant is rare, even among hexenbiests, so usually nobody thinks of harvesting those when they come across one who's died. Not to mention it's risky. Usually the only person who would want a dead hexenbiest is another hexenbiest. That might attract some interest we don't need."

Nick grimaces.

"Our other alternative is the stick," she says, and the grimace on his face deepens. "We still don't know anything about it, though. Which is why I was thinking if he can find the ingredients we need, and a witch's hat I can strain it in, it might be our best option."

"Those are a lot of variables."

"I know," she says with a sigh. "Which is why I was also seriously considering maybe we _should_ try the stick."

Nick stares at her for a moment.

"You just said we still don't know anything about it. I've been saying all along, we don't know enough about it. I have no idea what it would do to Diana if we used it on her."

"I know, which is why if we try it, we should try it on me, first."

"No," Nick says so firmly and simply it takes Adalind by surprise, but only for a second since she'd half been expecting it anyway.

"Nick, I don't think we can afford to dismiss it, and we need to start finding out what it can do."

"I agree, but not on you, and not on my children," he says.

"Nick!" she protests, but Nick shakes his head, and she pauses, summoning the argumentative skills she honed as a lawyer, preparing her speech mentally on how best to persuade him.

"I'm not risking you, so save it," he adds, recognizing her hesitation. "I don't know what it did to Eve, but it definitely did something. I don't want it doing anything to you."

"It may have been only temporary," Adalind points out. "You weren't around long enough to truly see its long-term effects. And even if it did take away my powers, I've been without them before, Nick. I'll be all right."

He shakes his brunette head stubbornly.

"What if it's permanent?" he counters. "What if you never regain your powers?"

"Again, it's not a scenario I'm unfamiliar with. I can live without my powers."

There's a part of her that almost prefers it. The taste of life with Nick without them after Kelly was born, so seemingly uncomplicated, remains in her memory. There's also the lingering fear that she might not be able to control it one day, the hexenbiest, if it's called upon too often. That she'll slip, have a relapse, something that decimates her family, her relationships. Destroys what she has with Nick.

"But you shouldn't have to. You're not who you were all those years ago," Nick says gently, reaching out and tugging on her hand to pull her closer. It's as though he's reading her mind. Perhaps he's reading her expression, cast in the shadows of the waning light. The fear of disappointing him. The fear of disappointing herself.

"I know. For a long time, I couldn't stand what I was. You don't know how freeing it was to be rid of the biest after I had Kelly. To not have that thirst for power and vengeance defining my every move. How nice it was that you could see me as good mother and a good person without all that baggage between us. Trust me, not every hexenbiest is thrilled with being one, though there are plenty who rise to the occasion, yes. It ruins more lives than helps them."

"Yes, but you're not ruining lives anymore. You've changed, and you can be what you want to be without having to sacrifice what you are. Besides, leaving you without powers leaves you and the kids vulnerable."

"I know, and making sure I can keep Kelly and Diana safe is an important argument in keeping my powers, but if we're going to use the stick and we can't find any info, we're not going to use it on my daughter without testing it out first, and I'm the only other hexenbiest present."

"Then let's not use the stick."

"Nick, what if we don't have a choice?" Adalind says desperately. "What if Sean, or whoever, or even Diana doesn't give us one? I mean, it's this, or a suppressant, or running again. If we run now, we're only going to keep on running, and then for how long before someone finds us? If they're using something like this to help them, then it's only a matter of time before we're discovered. We don't have a lot of options, and a suppressant is actually the most difficult and costliest option we have."

"We can find a way to get the money," Nick says. "We can't find a way to live without Diana, and I'm not going to find a way to live without you as you. Besides, we don't know if the hexenbiest is the only thing the stick will affect. It might do something worse, and there's no way in hell I can live with that. This experiment here in paradise only works if you're alive with me."

Adalind sighs. She's not willing to give up on it completely.

"What if we tested the stick on something smaller, like Bonaparte's ring?"

"It's stuck on your finger. You can't take it off—you saw what it did to Kelly and Diana. If we use the stick on it, it may still harm you since you're wearing it. Forget it. We're not going to test the stick. We're going to figure out how we can get our hands on the ingredients we need for the suppressant."

"How? Are we going to rob a bank?"

"Why not? It'll go well with grave robbing. I bet the kids will like it, too. You said you wanted us to do more things as a family, right?" he adds with a sardonic smile. She gives him a look.

%%%%

It's not long before Nick has to admit that figuring out how to manufacture the suppressant in their current predicament is a mountain they can't climb. The cost is astronomical, and if he wasn't seriously thinking of robbing a bank before, he admits he is now.

"Really?" she replies skeptically, because it's still Nick.

"No," he says with a sigh. "We don't need to add felony robbery to our list of offenses."

" _Our_ list?" she inquires.

"Yes, _our_. We're married, remember? Technically. Sort of. What? You're telling me you don't want to be Bonnie to my Clyde?"

"They died in a shootout with the police," she reminds him.

"Yes, but they stuck by each other until the bloody end."

"I'm with you, whatever happens, but I'm hoping whatever we decide to do it won't come to that," Adalind says, and Nick smiles grimly.

"Me, too, but the money, or lack thereof, is turning out to be a real problem."

"There's always the spell we used in Seattle," she reminds Nick.

"I don't know that we should risk that again. Two wesen afflicted with the same memory block spell? For someone who's looking, it's a trail that leads right to us."

"Yeah, but if we use that, there's a higher possibility we can just take what we need, and forego the money problem altogether."

"You think he's going to have dead hexenbiest in his little trunk show?"

No, probably not, she concedes. If he has it anywhere, it's probably at his shop in Helena, and they spend what Adalind thinks is a completely unnecessary amount of time arguing over whether and who should go to Helena to scope it out.

"He doesn't know you, you can't woge, and if you show him what you really are we're screwed, because it's highly unlikely he'll be willing to help us get our hands on those ingredients."

"I can be very convincing," Nick replies.

"So can I," she counters. "With a lot lower body count," she adds. She hopes. "As I'm sure aware," she adds in a sultry voice, sliding a hand up around his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. She smiles smugly, knowing they're both thinking of a handful of instances spent alone when she encouraged Nick to tap into his baser instincts, to incredibly satisfying results. "And it's going to require more finesse than brute force."

"Well, I sure hope you don't intend to persuade him with methods like that," Nick remarks petulantly after she attempts to sway him with an example. She smiles.

"That's just for you. But I can handle anything he throws at me, Nick, you don't have to worry."

"Doesn't mean I'm not going to," Nick retorts. "Are you making any headway on any local possibilities?"

"Some," she says. "I think I've got it narrowed down to a handful or so."

"A handful or so?"

"What? It's not easy sifting through a bunch of obituaries and a handful of local lore trying to determine if they're really a witch, or just a bitch nobody liked."

"It would be easier if we knew of some wesen who might know."

"Yeah, it would be, except we've made sure to keep to ourselves," she says.

"We know Ted," Nick says with a grimace.

"Great. You want to ask him? No way I want to give him the joy of asking for any favors," Adalind says sourly.

"No, not really. Let's put Ted down as a plan C, although, I'm not sure we have the luxury of being choosy."

"More like a plan D or E or Y. But you're probably right. Honestly, Nick, as much as I loathe to admit it, I could use some help here, and he might be our best bet in identifying a source of what we need. Otherwise it's the stick or going to Helena and hoping for the best that he even has what we're looking for, never mind how we're going to get our hands on it. More and more, I'm thinking our only option might be the stick."

She's been doing as much research on the stick as she is on possible dead hexenbiests in the area, but unlike her efforts with the locale, information on the stick is even scarcer and hasn't revealed anything. She's sent away for some books from the university rolling library program, but she suspects what she really needs is overseas, in Europe. She recalls Victor's family's castle library and the centuries-old books entombed there. Or more likely it's somewhere in the centuries of information in Nick's Grimm books (that are also beyond reach now).

Nick shakes his head at her mention of the stick, but she notes it's a little less furiously than before, and she thinks the lack of progress and solutions are wearing on him, too.

She's saved from having to construct another argument for its use, though.

She's seated at the dining table, books and papers spread out around her. Diana and Kelly are playing together in the living area a few feet away. Kelly's chattering happily in his baby speak to his sister, some words distinguishable in the mostly garbled speech, as Adalind listens absently to the noise. Nick's outside, and she can hear the rhythmic chop of the axe as he splits some logs for the fire before they all retire for the evening. Normally she'd sit on the side on the porch, leaning out over the edge and watch him, enjoying the smooth, precise arc as he swings the axe, the sinewy arms, the sweat glistening on his skin. The flick of pale green eyes as they notice her watching him, the tiny curl of his lip in satisfaction, the toothy grin when she whistles or remarks in appreciation.

It's cold, a brisk wind gusting occasionally, the kind that knifes craftily and sneakily through the loose seams of clothing, and she's only too happy for once to stay inside and keep an eye on their children while Nick tends to the outdoor chores.

She'll make it up to him later, after they put the kids to bed, and she imagines Nick teasing her with the threat of icy cold hands on her delicate bare skin. The feel of him as she evades his attempts before letting herself be captured, the shock of cold forgotten, rapidly turning to warmth, as she encourages his hands to touch her everywhere, his mouth demanding and gentle in that way he has. The press of his cold body against hers as he settles above her.

She's lost in her semi-erotic daydream about Nick when she registers Diana speaking. She flushes, her mind still muddled with images of Nick and she turns, an apology forming on her lips as she twists in her chair to ask her daughter to repeat what she just said.

"I'm sorry, honey—Diana?" Adalind says when she sees her.

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Diana's not even looking at her mother, or Kelly, who's fallen silent, also staring at his sister in wide-eyed confusion as Diana stares off into space with an angry expression, lilac eyes blazing bright.

"I'm not supposed to talk to you," Diana says.

"Nick," Adalind shouts. "Nick!"

Adalind leaps from her chair, the motion so fast it moves with her before she finally escapes it and it clatters to the floor. She dives to her knees in front of Diana and grabs both her arms, shaking her.

"Diana? Diana!"

There's no response and Adalind surges to her feet, a flicker of indecision before she turns and runs, almost colliding with Nick as he barrels through the door.

"What? What is it?" he asks a bit breathlessly, but she doesn't bother to reply. His eyes go past her anyway to Diana, and she feels their worried glance again as she brushes past him, on a mission, rounding the post and taking the stairs to the loft two at a time.

"Adalind? Diana? Diana!" she hears Nick shout. She glances around the room speculatively before flinging the mattress off the bed with a wave of her arm and finds the dark green ammo box underneath. Another twist of her wrist and it's flying to her, and she's already turning to rush back down the stairs when it lands in her hands.

She can still hear Nick shouting, and Kelly's begun to cry, likely at the noise Nick is making, or at least she hopes that's why as she fumbles with the latch on the box and it opens unexpectedly, surprising her and she's barely able to hang on to its contents as the box bangs against a step and crashes down the stairs.

It's the sound that makes Nick look up, and she's almost to the bottom of the steps and making the turn back to Diana, and Nick, when she registers the look on his face when he sees what she's holding.

Or maybe _she_ makes a sound, she's not sure, because the moment she's aware she's holding the stick—skin touching the stick—is the moment her arm buzzes numbingly.

It's the strangest sensation. She can feel her teeth grind against one another, as she tries to rein in another shriek. She's almost there, almost to them, when Nick lets go of Diana and stretches out his arm for her.

No.

For the stick.

She wraps her hand more fully and tightly around it, intent on reaching Diana first, and can't smother the scream that results.

%%%%

"Adalind? Adalind!" he yells helplessly, watching her crumble, the stick finally falling out her slack hand. He dives for her, before he hastily has to lay her aside when the stick lands near Kelly. Nick snatches the stick before Kelly can do anything more than eye it warily and he feels the familiar, heady buzz of power in his arm.

There's a strange sounding hiss near Adalind, and Diana shrieks, reminding Nick of what started this whole nightmare and he whirls to see Diana also falling limply forward, on a trajectory to crash into their lone end table, and he catches her reflexively, before he almost drops her again in his haste to get her away from the stick clutched in his fingers.

It's too late. Her bare neck and shoulder are braced against the broad end of the stick for a few seconds as he tries to juggle his load without dropping her. Her body seizes and then convulses at the contact and he watches in growing despair as more tremors overtake her. He manages to maneuver her weight to one arm and he hurls the stick as far away from him as he can with the other one. He hears it clatter against a wall of the room, Kelly wailing suddenly behind him, and he whirls to look at his son, red-faced and crying.

He glances at Adalind, still unmoving, and his heart freezes in his chest.

No. No, no, no, _No!_

He whirls back to his daughter and notes with alarm she's also gone still.

"Diana? Diana! Diana!" he shouts, panic and dread heavy in his bowels.

 _Jesus!_ He can't lose them. Not after his aunt. Not after his mom. He can't lose them all. He registers Kelly's fretful cries and spins back to look at him. He's alert and upright, but that's about all he can say about his son.

"It's okay," he tries, but he knows he's not very reassuring. The scene before them is far from okay.

"Adalind?" he tries, looking at her again and is relieved to register the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. He flicks his eyes back to Diana, but she's as still as before, and he leans forward again, and prepares to start administering first aid, when she spasms, surprising him. His hands hover uncertainly in mid-air over her.

He feels a strange pressure, an intensity, that of a wind or a vortex before the pressure abruptly releases, shattering all the windows in the cabin with it.

Diana opens her eyes.

"Diana," he breathes in relief that is short-lived. Kelly's bawling intensifies, and he turns to find his son with his arms outstretched towards a groggy Adalind.

"Adalind!" he shouts and she looks blankly at Nick before instinct guides her and she reaches for their crying son. Kelly calms considerably once he's ensconced in his mother's arms, and Nick leans back on his heels with another look at Diana. She's wearing a peculiar expression, head cocked slightly, as though taking a mental inventory.

"What happened?"

The question comes from a still disoriented Adalind, not Diana, and she jolts when she spies her daughter a few feet away, as though she's just registered she's in the room. She tucks Kelly under an arm and half scoots, half crawls over to her daughter.

"Diana? Diana! What happened!"

That's a good question. Nick doesn't really have a good answer.

"I feel funny," Diana says and Nick and Adalind both lean forward.

"Can you sit up?" Nick asks. Diana nods. Diana slowly pushes herself into an upright position, Nick hovering behind, ready to catch her.

Nick runs his eyes carefully over Diana, Adalind the same, taking note of anything amiss. There's nothing obvious. No bruises or cuts, or anything else of interest that can be spied with an eye.

"Nick, maybe we should get her to a doctor," Adalind says, but she sounds unsure.

"I'm okay," Diana says, looking at them. "I just feel funny."

"Feel funny how?"

"Weird," Diana says, which isn't illuminating, nor is it reassuring. "Is Kelly okay?"

Nick and Adalind both glance at their son, sucking his thumb. Adalind shifts his weight against her again, pulling him close to look at him, as she smooths a hand over Kelly's dark hair.

"I think so," Adalind says, inspecting him carefully. Her hand brushes over one of Kelly's chubby cheeks, and Kelly's brow furrows in momentary annoyance, before Adalind washes the expression away with a couple of kisses. She brushes a hand over his head again before Nick registers why he's so focused on it.

"Your hand," he says, grabbing for it.

"What?" Adalind says distractedly.

"Your ring," he clarifies.

She snatches her hand away for her own inspection.

"Where'd it go?" she asks in bewilderment, looking up at him with wide, blue eyes. It's gone. Everyone glances around before Diana points to a piece of debris on the rough wood flooring a few feet away from them.

"Is that it?"

Nick crawls towards it. It's a piece of curved metal with ragged ends, charred gold, by the looks of it.

"I think this might be part of it," he says, handing the piece to Adalind after she hesitantly holds out her palm for it. They both glance around for the other half but Nick comes up empty and Adalind abandons her half of the search as she focuses her attention on the piece they do have.

"It worked?" she says, sounding incredulous.

The stick. It's been one of their theories, or maybe, more accurately, hopes, that the stick would be able to undo the spell Bonaparte cast without grievous injury to Adalind or the kids. She glances sharply back at her children, re-inspecting Kelly with a little more clinical intent. He fussily jerks away at the attention, before she hands Nick their son and turns her attention more fully to her daughter.

"It worked," she says again, glancing at Nick for agreement. He knows what she's implying. If it worked, as it seems to, on the ring, then maybe the stick worked on their hexenbiest daughter.

Nick doesn't answer as he conducts his own critical survey of his son but comes away with nothing visibly alarming, either. He works his son's chubby arms up and down, testing them, one at a time, for what he doesn't know. Kelly stares at him as though he thinks his father has lost it. His bewilderment at Nick's manipulations doesn't last long as he garbles at Nick to be set down, and Nick pats his back soothingly, noting how warm he is.

Or rather, how cold the room is.

He glances around, and notes the broken glass on the floor, and the filmy curtains wafting in the cool breeze that filters through the windows.

The windows.

"Are you sure you don't hurt anywhere?" Adalind asks Diana again, drawing Nick's attention back to the other matter at hand.

"No," Diana replies, brow furrowing. "It just feels funny, inside."

The hexenbiest.

Adalind glances again at Nick, brow furrowed in concern, and he knows she's thinking the same thing he is. The stick did something to the hexenbiest in Diana, but Adalind was also in contact with the stick and he focuses his attention on her looking her over carefully.

"Adalind," he says quietly. Adalind shakes her head distractedly, her entire attention on Diana. "Adalind," he says more forcefully.

She flicks defiant eyes at Nick and shakes her head minutely again.

"Does it feel like something's…missing. A big empty feeling in your stomach?" Adalind asks her daughter. Diana cocks her head in contemplation.

"Sort of," she says in an uncertain voice, nodding hesitantly, before shaking her head after a moment. Adalind glances at Nick again, confusion evident. "It's just…different. I'm cold," Diana pronounces, and Adalind's brow furrows deeper.

"We need to clean up the glass," Nick remarks and the confused look increases, before Nick waves his hand around the room and Adalind spies the broken window panes. "I'll bring in some firewood and see if I can find some boards to cover the windows with."

"I'll get a broom and start cleaning this mess up," Adalind says, taking Kelly as Nick deposits him back in her arms. "Diana, honey, can you fetch me the broom and dustpan," Adalind asks. Diana nods and summons them both, telekinetically.

"Here you are, mommy," Diana says, as they bob in the air in front of Adalind. Both Adalind and Nick stare in consternation.

"Thank you," Adalind says unsteadily, glancing at Nick as she leans down to pass Kelly off to his sister. "Here, keep an eye on your brother while I clean up the glass."

"Okay," Diana agrees, and Nick tries to school his expression. The good thing is there aren't many windows in the cabin, one on each side of the door and one at the back, in Diana's room, and a small one upstairs in the loft.

"Why don't you get a blanket from the trunk and wrap yourselves up in it to stay warm, and Nick will get a fire going for us," Adalind prompts, looking at Nick.

He moves, gathering the wood and going through all the steps to get the fire lit mechanically, fingers too numb to get the match to strike before Diana summons a flame with her powers and Nick offers a weak grin and a "thanks."

He catches Adalind's eye, noting the slightly sick expression on her face, the disappointment evident that the one thing that might have worked to control her daughter's powers seems to have failed.

Because it appears Diana still has her powers. The disappointment he feels is quickly followed by shame. Shame that he's disappointed the stick, the only thing that might possibly work on her and her incredible powers, didn't. But if it didn't work on her, then what did it do? It appears to have worked on Bonaparte's ring. He knows it did something to Eve. But why? Did it do something to Adalind?

"Can you woge?" Nick says suddenly, turning to her, and she meets his gaze with very blue eyes, her expression, the disappointment-tinted-with shame, mirroring his own.

"I don't know. I can try. Later," she says. "We need to get this mess cleaned up and get the windows figured out, or it's going to be one very cold night in the cabin. The kids are liable to get sick," Adalind adds when he opens his mouth to argue.

He spends almost two hours, rummaging for enough materials to board the windows with, but he manages to piece enough boards together to cover the broken panes. Adalind uses towels and socks to stuff in any cracks and it's the best they can do until morning when Nick can try to figure something more permanent out.

They'll have to dip into their emergency funds to replace them since he doesn't know how he can explain to the landlord how all the windows managed to look like a sonic boom hit them. Adalind and the children are snuggled, wrap tight in blankets in front of the fire, trying to keep warm, and Kelly's listing to starboard, almost asleep in Adalind's arms, when Nick finally declares he's done.

"Maybe we should sleep downstairs here, in front of the fire to stay warm? Or have the kids all stay with us?" Adalind asks him. "I don't want them to be cold, and it's still pretty drafty in here."

It's freezing inside the cabin, and Nick's fingers are stiff and numb, but he's worried something's wrong with Adalind. He knows the stick did something, unless, what? Now it doesn't work?

"Adalind," he says quietly. "What about you? Are you okay?"

She nods quickly, almost dismissively. "I'm okay."

"Can you woge?"

The reassuring smile dims a little, eyes glancing quickly over her children to see how much they're following this converstion.

It comes to Nick how rarely Adalind reveals her wesen self to their children.

Just as with Nick, Adalind's made a concerted effort to avoid woging in front of the kids. Other than Adalind's admission that she was forced to woge with Kelly present in order to get her job back at her wesen firm, he doesn't think Kelly's witnessed much of his mother's otherworldly nature. He's not sure how much Diana has seen. Though Adalind admitted that Kelly didn't seem bothered by her transformation, she's been careful to protect him from seeing her in her other form and risk scaring him.

She glances again at Diana, who's watching her intently, and Adalind smiles soothingly.

"Diana, honey, mommy's going to do something, and I don't want you-"

"Are you going to make your face change?" Diana interrupts.

"I don't want you to be frightened."

"I'm not," Diana replies. Adalind twists her neck slightly. Her face merely ripples, at first, and then, with difficulty, as she tries again, it morphs into the skeletal guise of her alter-ego.

Nick exhales a sigh of relief loudly.

Adalind rolls her neck, and her human features slide back into place.

"You can woge," he says, profoundly relieved.

"Yes, but not much else," Adalind replies and the relief he was feeling dissipates.

"What?"

"While you were outside I tried a few other things, putting the broom away," she says. "I had a very hard time doing some of those things. It's like...it injured or hurt the hexenbiest, but I don't think it killed it. Did you see it?"

Nick shakes his head slowly, remembering when he had "killed" Adalind the first time, he could actually see the hexenbiest form leaving her body. And again, when Adalind had used the suppressant on herself, he had been able to see the biest rising above her, before it snapped back inside.

"No," he admits in surprise. He glances at Diana. "I didn't see anything," he says, looking back at Adalind. "From anyone."

Not even Eve, he recalls. But Adalind's right, the two times when he can be sure the hexenbiest was suppressed or removed he'd seen the biest with his own two eyes.

"Not even when I used it on Eve."

"Maybe the stick only weakens it, not kills it," Adalind says and Nick cocks his head, before shaking it.

"I don't know. I know it did something to Eve."

"It did something to me," Adalind admits, "but I'm okay," she assures at Nick's pensive look. "I'm okay."

"Eve couldn't woge," Nick says, remembering. "Why can you and she couldn't?"

Adalind shrugs. "I don't know, but you said you don't know what all it did or how long it lasted."

"So does the stick work?" Nick says.

"Maybe. Maybe it does, just not the way we think it does. It worked on the ring," she points out, wriggling her bare ring finger. It's red, where the heat of the metal burned her skin. Nick grabs her hand and inspects it closely.

"Or we think it worked on the ring."

"Oh, that's reassuring. What other explanation do you have for what happened?" Adalind asks him.

"What on earth possessed you to grab the stick?" Nick replies, since he doesn't have any other explanations to offer. His children appear to be fine, so he can only assume from that, that it worked. He turns more fully to face her. Adalind shifts subtly, eyes slightly defiant.

"Something was trying to use my daughter as a medium. I grabbed the first thing I could think of that might break whatever spell or hold they were using. It worked," she adds pointedly.

"Maybe. We hope," Nick retorts. "It's a hell of a risk you took."

"A necessary risk," Adalind counters. "We needed more information about the stick and what it can do."

"What exactly did we learn? It sort of works? It works when it wants to? It can break spells cast by hexenbiests but not hexenbiests themselves?"

"Possibly. It's more information than we had."

"Not really. We don't know what exactly it did. Or why it appears to have done something to you, but not...the others."

"Maybe it did do something to the others," Adalind replies, glancing down at her daughter, slumped against a pillow, also half asleep. Adalind reachers out a finger, and brushes a lock from her daughter's cheek.

"So, what does that leave us with?"

"I don't know. Maybe something manageable. For all parties involved," Adalind says.

"What happened with the stick leaves more questions than answers," Nick says. _If_ Diana's abilities, like Adalind's, have been weakened, then what has been affected? How much and for how long? In a day or two will she be back to normal? Hours? Weeks or months?

"You're forgetting the other issue," Adalind replies. At Nick's blank look she continues. "Why I used the stick in the first place – to break the connection. Someone tried to contact Diana, again."

"You think it was the same person as before?"

"Probably."

"Do you think they got anything?"

"I don't know. I think the stick broke the connection they had, whoever it was."

"Diana, did you see who tried to contact you? Was it the same person?"

She nods sleepily, opening her eyes.

"There were lots of people," Diana says.

"Lots? More than one?" Nick asks in surprise. "More than three? More than four?" Diana nods again. "Did you see how many?"

"I don't know. I couldn't see them very well, but I could hear them all."

"You could? What did they say?" Adalind interjects.

Diana shakes her head, concentrating.

"I couldn't really tell. But she was saying my name."

"She?" Nick says as Adalind stands a little bit straighter.

"Elizabeth," she murmurs.

"The one who was saying your name. She was the same person who tried to contact you before?" Nick asks. Diana nods.

"I remember her," Diana says flatly.

"Great, that's great," Nick says encouragingly. "You could see what she looked like?" Diana nods. "Can you describe her? Was she blonde like mommy or dark-haired like me?"

"She had dark-hair, like you," Diana says.

"You're sure?" Adalind asks her and Diana nods again. Renard's mother had blonde hair, at least the last time Nick had seen her. It was possible, though, that she could have changed it.

"Was she short? Tall?" Diana shrugs.

"I'm not sure. She was sitting down. In front of a mirror."

"A mirror? Are you sure?" Adalind asks, looking intrigued by this bit of information. Diana nods again, fighting a yawn.

"What's the significance of a mirror?" Nick asks.

"Mirrors can be used as portals. Some blood spells use them to contact the dead, or people on planes of different existences. Some spells say you can use mirrors to travel through different dimensions."

"Are you serious?" Nick says, looking at her. Adalind shrugs.

"Yeah, mirrors have a long history of acting as portals. _Mirror, mirror on the wall,"_ Adalind reminds him with a touch of sarcasm. "The mirror and blood was probably the conduit to Diana."

"It's a blood spell? Would they need Diana's blood?"

He was thinking of Renard, or even Elizabeth, who might have enough of a genetic link to exploit as direct ascendants.

"No, just hexenbiest blood. Those type of spells require the blood of a hexenbiest, usually as a sort of toll paid to contact the other side. Although," she adds, a perfectly arched brow furrowing. "To do what they're doing, they'd have to have some type of connection with Diana to make it work so easily."

"Like her blood?" he says.

"Maybe," Adalind murmurs. "Hair might do it, but I would think the connection would need to be stronger."

"Blood," Nick says. "Maybe an ancestor?"

"Possibly," she concedes, "but the person doesn't sound like Elizabeth, unless she's changed her hair."

"Maybe there's someone else involved," Nick says. "Okay, and you said you could hear other people around her, but you couldn't see them?"

Diana nods. "I could see her, but I couldn't see them. And she was in a different room last time."

"Last time when you were in the forest?"

"No, in Portland. When I was looking for you, mommy."

"When you were in Portland?" Adalind repeats. "Looking for me? Before I found you and we moved in with your dad? You saw this woman then?"

Diana nods.

"I was searching everywhere for you, and when I called out for you, you answered, but so did she."

"She did?" Nick says, glancing at Adalind who is sitting rigidly beside him.

"I called out for mommy and I saw her. She heard me."

"And you saw her then, in front of a mirror, too?" Nick says slowly.

Diana nods.

"Was she with anyone then?"

Diana shakes her head.

"Can you recall anything else about her. Anything?"

"She knew mommy Kelly," Diana says solemnly, eyes on Nick.

Adalind's blonde head swivels to Nick.

"She—she did?" Nick says, the admission catching him off guard. "Are you sure?"

Diana nods, once. There's something in Adalind's expression that Nick is instinctively trying to refute. He flicks his eyes back to Diana when she speaks again.

"She was there when the bad people came and hurt her."

%%%%


	34. Part Seven - Chapter Four

AN: Wanted to say thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites for everyone who's stuck with this story. Bear with me a little longer, we're on the downhill run. Given this is the busy time of year for me for work, and trying to be realistic with finishing this up given the time constraints, I will attempt to post every 2-3 weeks.

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"Nick," Adalind says softly, and it's clear she's put it together, perhaps faster than him. "It's not Elizabeth."

He nods. They both know who it is.

"There's only one person who's still alive that was there when my mother died."

"Eve," Adalind says quietly. He nods, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. "She's got dark hair like you. She's a hexenbiest. She knows about Diana. And she was me—I was her-"Adalind waves a hand. "Maybe that's how this is all connected."

"Why is she trying to contact Diana?" Nick asks.

"Maybe she isn't. Maybe she's trying to get a hold of you, or me. Probably you," Adalind says off-handedly. "There's no other way, no possible connection than maybe this, and if Diana managed to contact Eve when she was trying to find me, Eve would be aware of connection, the cross-wiring. Probably the cause of it."

"The Verfluchte Zwillingsschwester," Nick says, remembering the spell, and all the havoc it wreaked on his life. Their lives, and was still wreaking, as Adalind nods.

"We're all connected because of it," Adalind says. "The other people in the room, do you think that's Rosalee and Monroe and everyone?" She asks with a hopeful lilt.

Nick shrugs again. "Maybe," he says, because it's all he can muster in light of this development. He's deeply unsettled at what's going on.

"Do you think something's happened? Why would they try to contact us? Especially now, after all this time?"

"I don't know," Nick says. It's been well over a year now since Nick last saw or had contact with anyone from his old life in Portland. It had been his hope that they had given up on him and Adalind. Why would they suddenly try to contact them now? There's real fear driving the response that's bubbling up. The sense that everything's he struggled to achieve here, protect, is about to come crashing down. His little bubble is about to burst, and he's fighting frantically against it.

"Do you think everyone's okay?" Adalind asks worriedly.

"I don't know. If we're going by what Diana told us, sounds like there were several people there, so maybe."

"Why are they trying to get in touch with us?" She prompts when Nick says nothing. "Nick, we should call them."

"Their phones are probably still tapped. The call could be traced back to us. Calling them puts them at risk and us at risk."

"Aren't you worried?"

"Yes, I'm worried," he says, "but the best thing we can do for everyone is to think this out carefully before we do anything rash."

"Nick, they might need us," Adalind implores.

"Yeah, they might," Nick agrees, and she relents, glad to see he understands. "But even if they do, we're not those people anymore. You and I left that all behind us. For a reason," he emphasizes, glancing at Kelly and Diana. Adalind reluctantly follows his gaze. "We are not Nick and Adalind anymore. We're David and Addy, and we have a different life now. A quiet life. A good one, and it's not something I'm willing to give up."

%%%%

"Something's wrong. They wouldn't have tried what they did unless there was something wrong." Adalind says suddenly in the darkness.

Nick stifles a sigh. He guesses it's about two a.m. and he's been lying wide awake, staring at the fire, making sure it doesn't die off in the night. All four of them are lying on the mattress, hauled down from his and Adalind's bed in the loft and placed in front of the fire. Kelly's curled against Nick's side snoozing soundly, and Diana against Adalind, as they try to keep the children warm. There's a definite nip in the air despite his efforts to alleviate the chill.

"Why don't you want to find out what's going on?" she asks.

"I do want to find out what's going on," Nick retorts.

"But?" she prompts.

But he's also loathing to dive back into the life they've worked so hard to leave behind. He meant what he said; though this new life has had its own set of difficulties, it's still a good one, and he thinks long-term it's the right one. He works, yes, a (generally) pretty boring job, but he's home every night by six, he gets to spend time with his children, and he and Adalind are free to pursue their relationship without fear or worry of how it might be perceived by others who don't understand it, or want to exploit it. It hasn't been perfect, but he feels like they're on the right track to making this work.

Yes, it's been difficult to just pick up and leave everything behind. Yes, he's wondered and worried about how his friends are doing, especially after the mess he fled in Portland. Yes, he wars sometimes with his conscience, is he shirking not only his duty as an officer, someone sworn to uphold the law and fight against wrong, but as a Grimm, and in the same thought is he shirking his duty as a father and a partner to Adalind, to follow those pursuits, and does one have to come before the other? He's very aware of all the advice he's received over the years, particularly from his aunt and his mother. He's constantly besieged by the thoughts about whether he's doing the right thing.

His also aware of everything his mother and aunt had to give up, that his mother was willing to do anything to protect her child, and so is he. He doesn't want to subject them to the life he endured, motherless and fatherless, orphaned at such a young age. His mother gave him up, lost her husband, and ultimately she lost everything that mattered trying to live up to her duty as a Grimm. So did his aunt. They played the ultimate price for it anyway, even after all the sacrifices, and was it really worth it in the end?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know what the right answer here is, just that he's tired of sacrificing, that he loves Adalind and Kelly and Diana, and that he's selfish. Or that he wants to be selfish. He deserves to be selfish, he thinks. Why does doing the right thing mean having to give up the people he loves most? He doesn't want to give them up, but he's not sure he can see a good life for them, if he remains a Grimm in Portland, not after everything his own family and friends have been through. Something has to give, he thinks, for it to all work, and maybe he needs to make one final sacrifice, his life as a Grimm, for him and his family to be safe and happy.

Except, sometimes he doesn't think Adalind is happy.

"I mean, why would they do it? Especially now, after all this time? Wouldn't they think we're dead? Do you think they've found something?" Adalind continues, when he doesn't say anything, pulling him back to the present.

Yes, why would Eve try to contact Diana? He's been wondering that himself all night, despite his efforts to remain distant from his friends and whatever is happening in Portland. Apparently Adalind has been wondering that, too, though they both pretended they were asleep whenever the other glanced at the person lying next to them. He had thought Adalind had finally drifted off for real, but obviously she was better at faking sleep than he was.

"Nick, talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking," she implores.

He takes a deep breath, glancing at her in the flickering light.

"It's not that I'm not worried," Nick begins, then stops, wondering if he should voice aloud what he's thinking. It sounds callous. It sounds selfish.

"Then what? These are your friends, Nick. You hardly ever talk about them," she points out, "but I know you must miss them."

"It doesn't matter that I miss them. I told you before, leaving them, leaving Portland, was the right decision for everyone. This life—it was never going to let up, so long as I stayed there. And the sacrifices kept getting bigger and bigger. It was more than they should have to give. Being a Grimm has cost me, and everyone around me, so much. Then I almost lost you and Kelly, and I realized it's more than I was willing to pay."

"What about Monroe? And Rosalee? And Hank and Wu and Trubel? They don't matter anymore?"

Nick sighs.

"Of course, they matter. But shouldn't they have the right to get on with their lives? How much do they have to give before it's enough? It's not fair to them. It's not fair to anybody."

"Maybe it's not your call to make," Adalind says quietly. "Maybe they don't mind since you're doing the right thing. You're keeping our world safe. They're doing the right thing helping you. They're making a difference. It feels good. It's not a sacrifice when they want to do it. They love you. You bring so much good into their lives."

"Do I? All I seem to bring is pain and destruction in one form or another," Nick says. "I can understand now why my aunt encouraged me to break it off with Juliette. It was too late, though, I loved her too much and I didn't want to lose her, and look what that did to us? To her? It's why my mother worked alone. Why my aunt worked alone. Why she worked so hard to shield me from this life. It's why most Grimms work alone. There's so much you have to give up as a Grimm, or else it will get taken from you. Monroe and Rosalee, and the others, they have the right to enjoy a life together, maybe one day have a family of their own and not have to worry what may happen to them because they know me."

"Nick, wesen don't have an easy life even if they don't know a Grimm. We all know having and raising a family poses challenges, but it's not any more difficult than a kehrseite cop raising a family. There are just extra precautions you take."

"What would you have me do? We can't go back. I'm still wanted for murder. Probably kidnapping, at this point, too, and who knows what else. Renard isn't going to welcome me back with open arms. I'll be arrested. He'll try to take away Diana. He might try to take away Kelly again, he may hurt you, and even if he doesn't, there's still Black Claw and the Royals and everyone else who oppose us."

"He tries anything, to you or anyone in my family, he won't live to regret it," she says fiercely. "You always think it's you who has to take on the world by yourself, but we're all here, too. We want to help you," she says. "We want to do the right thing, Nick. And I think the right thing is to go back to Portland."

"It's too risky," Nick replies. "What if something happens to you, or the kids? How am I supposed to get past that?" he asks, emotion clogging his throat.

"Nick, something might always happen to us no matter what. You can't change what we are. Hell, we could be struck by lightning. But the kinds of things you're thinking of-it might be less likely to happen if we're surrounded by the people that know and love us as much as we love them. I miss our friends. I miss Rosalee, and the spice shop, and our fome, and the park I used to take Kelly to," she says. "My job, the feeling that I was doing something that mattered, like when I got the chance to help you with stuff."

"You are doing something that matters. You're being a good mom to Kelly and Diana."

"I know," she says with a sigh, "And I want to be a good mom to them. I want to be there for them, and I want to be the kind of mother my mother wasn't: loving, and supportive and encouraging, but Nick, I can do so much more than that. I felt like I was finally doing something good, you know? Making up for all the horrible things I did before. Proving that you can be what I am and still do the right thing. I know our life wasn't perfect there, but sometimes, when it was just you and me, it almost felt like it."

She's bored. He knows this. She's lonely, too. There's not much in the way of interaction here, living the way they are, beyond the children and Nick. Not much in the way of adult contact. Leslie, though Adalind tries to keep her at a distance—there's not much in common there, other than their children. The guy that helps her with research sometimes at the library, but again, there's a not a lot of opportunity to deepen the friendship. She was bored and lonely in Portland, too, but she seemed to perk up when she got to spend time with Rosalee, or when she went back to work, or when she spent time with Nick, but those interactions were few and far between. He was gone most of the day, and often, most of the night. The only time he ever got to see her usually was when it was time for bed, her sometimes already asleep when he got home. A quick tet-a-tete in the morning before work.

"It was never just you and me," Nick says, trying to explain. "There was always some crisis happening that seemed to always keep me busy trying to keep the wesen of Portland in check, while you spent all day alone in the fome with Kelly. I never got to spend any time with you. What I wouldn't have given then for more mornings like the one the other day, staying in bed and making love to you. Going to the park with you and Kelly. Being able to come home and visit with you without having to rush off ten minutes later."

"It wasn't like we never spent time together. We had our moments," Adalind says. "We were able to carve a little time out for ourselves when we needed it. Besides, I wouldn't have let you neglect me indefinitely. It's important to remember being in a committed relationship takes some focus, and I can be very persuasive. Besides, it wasn't like every morning or evening began with a crisis. If we went back, there's plenty of opportunities to delight in the early mornings. Or the late evenings."

"Not if I'm in jail. They don't allow conjugals." Especially if you weren't really married, he thinks, and they're not.

He's never forsaken his responsibilities before. He can admit it feels foreign. He feels guilty for shirking his duty as a Grimm, a cop, a friend-everything. He's always done the right thing, no matter how difficult, but he's acutely aware of the toll it's taken on his life and his relationships, especially in the last few years. He's trying to put Adalind first, his children first. For years now, he was a Grimm first, to the detriment of many, not the least of which was Juliette. He's aware of how much strain his being a Grimm put on that relationship.

He knows it's different with Adalind. He's never had to lie to her or hide what he is, and she's never made demands on him, has always accepted the craziness of his life uncomplainingly, skillfully, but he still feels like he has to choose between her and his children and his life as a Grimm.

"Why?" she asks when he relays this. "Why does it have to one or the other?"

"It's not realistic. It doesn't seem like anyone in my family has ever been able to have both. Sooner or later, this life catches up to them. Usually in fatal ways. Look at my dad. He wasn't part of this life, or at least he wasn't a Grimm, and he paid the ultimate price for it."

"Everyone in your family was a firm believer of staying behind their party lines, too," she points out. "Going it alone. Maintaining the status quo. Grimms are Grimms and Wesen are Wesen and they just don't mix. You're the first Grimm that's got a Blutbad for a best friend, and a Fuchsbau, and an Eisbiber, and a hexenbiest for a lover. Maybe you should forget about going it alone. It didn't work for them, you're right. Maybe that means you should try something different—maybe not doing it all by yourself, or feeling that you have to be alone. Maybe it's okay to have help. To accept help. Maybe admit you need help."

He's admitted many times he's needed help, accepted it. Demanded it, thinking of when he had first come into the life and knowledge that he was a Grimm. All those times he'd shown up at Monroe's house in those early days, calling or pounding on the door until Monroe relented and let him in. How little things rapidly snowballed into bigger ones, with more and more risk to Monroe and the others. How quickly they got in deep.

"You'd go back? Give this all up?" he waves a hand around them. He's referring to the life they've built here together, not the cold, remote, windowless shanty they are currently living in. The quiet, boring job, the opportunity to be a family without demands and risks placed on them. To see his children grow up and begin families of their own. To grow old together with Adalind.

"Yes," Adalind says. "Because I'm not giving up what matters to me, you and the kids. It's not any safer here, Nick, than it is in Portland. We're all alone out here. _You're_ all alone. When things happen to you—I mean, both those times in the woods you got lucky. If it were Portland, you'd have Hank, and Wu, both who know what you're usually up against, and all the other officers you work with for backup, and Trubel and Monroe and Rosalee, and, hell, even Bud. Me. Here, I'm stuck, literally miles from anyone, and I have no idea until something happens what's going on with you. Even if you tried to reach me, it's likely it would be an hour or more before I could even get to you. Assuming I could even _find_ you."

"I'm not a cop anymore, Adalind. And Renard's not going to let me waltz into Portland and the station and just shout, "Hey, I'm back! Give me my badge and gun and let's get with it."

"You miss it," she says plainly. "I know you do. Being a cop. The mysteries. The weirdness. You love helping people, solving crimes, making people safe, bringing bad people and wesen to justice. It's who you are, Nick. For better or worse, and nobody thinks any less of you because of it, or feels like our lives are worse off for knowing you."

"I'm not sure Juliette would agree." She's the tangible evidence of how devastating an association with him can be.

"You know what, maybe one day you should ask her," Adalind says. "I think maybe the answer will surprise you. And maybe it will give you some peace and closure about what happened between you. For both of you."

%%%%

He's pensive and quiet the next couple of days, and Adalind leaves him to his thoughts. Though she made the decision sound easy, she knows the logistics of returning to Portland aren't anywhere near simple.

He's right, Sean's liable to have him arrested him on sight, so even if they did return, it means a lot of skulking around and hiding out unless and until they can figure out a way to clear Nick's name or have Sean call off the dogs.

She goes to work trying to figure out an angle, a way back in for Nick, that clears him of the charges or explains away what happened. It's a tall order. Of course there's what happened at their loft, but there's also what happened at the North Precinct, too, and everything leading up to it. She doesn't know how Sean managed to explain away his campaign manager's death, but then, come to think of it, she doesn't recall seeing anything about it either.

She makes a special trip to the library, looking into any mentions of Rachel in newspaper articles or blurbs about Renard and Portland and the election. There's nothing.

No mention of a death, suspected murder, or even a missing person. She just vanishes from print. Perhaps there's something there she can use, but if she's going to try to pin Rachel's death on Sean, she'd be better served with a body. Besides, she thinks despondently, Sean being arrested for murder of his campaign manager doesn't eliminate all the other murders he's trying to pin on Nick.

"There's nothing about Rachel," she says to Nick as he's trying to replace one of the windows. The frame isn't squared up, for whatever reason—house settling or poor craftsmanship—and it's pissing him off when he's already on edge.

"What?"

"In the papers. Rachel. Sean's campaign manager. Sean's dead campaign manager. Murdered in her own bed." By her own daughter, but Nick already knows this.

"So?" he says distractedly.

"So? What did they do with her? How did they explain it? Maybe we can use her death to get something on him."

"I suspect the FBI's looking into it," Nick says.

"They are? How do you know? Have you talked to Hank and the others?" she asks in surprise, hurt that he would do something like that and not say anything, especially after he was so adamant about no contact until they decide what they want to do and how to go about it.

"No, I just remember seeing something online somewhere in an article I came across. He and his whole team have been under investigation. There's been a lot of suspicious deaths among his staff."

Crap, she thinks. If the FBI gets something on Sean before they do than they're really going to have a hard time convincing the authorities to drop the charges on Nick, because they're pretty damn incriminating no matter how you spin it. Plus, according to Nick, he's had a run-in with the FBI before, so he's already on their radar.

"Great," she says. "Well, maybe we can use something there to our advantage."

"You're still thinking about returning to Portland?"

"You're not?" she returns. He frowns, tapping a nail down with more concentration than she thinks necessary, but then again, he spent most of the evening getting the pane in and she supposes he doesn't want to see all his hard work go down the tubes because of a slip of the hammer.

"How are we going to hide Diana? Where are we going to stay?"

She's about to say the fome, but, of course, the fome is probably being watched. Hell, the fome is probably in shambles, unlived in now for over a year. It wasn't much to look at when they first moved in and Nick had taken some pains to make it livable.

"I guess the fome is out, huh?" she says with a sigh.

"Most likely, although it might be a remote possibility," he says, for once entertaining the idea of returning home instead of dismissing it immediately. "There's a way to access it from the tunnels via a vent, if we can get there without detection."

"There is?" Adalind says in surprise. "You guys were able to find where it leads?"

"We found a way out, yes. Most of the tunnels go nowhere, but there is an access point a block or so away from the loft that we could use to get in. It's been over a year, I doubt the loft is being watched 24/7 anymore, but I'm sure it's checked periodically, so I don't know how much time we'd have before we had company."

She mulls this over as Nick does something with the window again.

She looks over at their children, Kelly playing with one of his toys along the floor, scooting about as he follows it. Yes, how would they hide Diana? How would they hide Kelly? Now that he's starting to talk, he can be quite vocal. How would they keep him quiet? Nick's right, they won't be able to move around freely—it's only a matter of time probably before someone recognizes them, and both of them are much more well known in Portland than the sparsely populated Whitefish area. She and the children were heavily featured on TV and in print when Sean was elected mayor, and she's come across numerous articles as to where the new mayor's photogenic family disappeared to.

Wherever they stay, they'll be confined to it as they try to lay low and stay out of sight. The situation will be even more stifling than it is now, she thinks. Here she has the chance to at least go outside, walk around their property, get out of the cabin for a bit. Enjoy the air and the sunshine, or even the snow. They won't have that type of freedom in Portland, not with everyone looking for them. It's why it's imperative to find a way to clear Nick's name as soon as possible.

"Maybe we should just go straight to the spice shop," Adalind suggests.

"They'll be watching that, too," Nick replies.

"Yes, but like you said, it's been more than a year. Probably not the level of surveillance as when we first left. It's probably the same risk of being seen there as it would be at the loft."

"There's so much being said and not being said in the papers," Nick says. "I think maybe if we were to go back, it might be best to check everything out as much as possible, before we reveal to anyone we're back." He hesitates and then continues. "It might be better if only one of us goes."

"One of us being you?" she says flatly. "No. No way, and don't even argue," she adds when it's clear Nick's going to. "If you go, we go. Period. You need me," she adds. "I'm good in a fight, and don't forget I'm pretty clever and resourceful, too. Those are qualities you're going to need to defeat Sean. Besides, maybe I'm going for the wrong angle on all this. Maybe Sean's missing wife and kids is something we can exploit."

Nick's expression sours, and she knows he's not thrilled with the idea of her, or his son, posing as anything of Sean's. He has less of an argument with Diana, but he's likely not happy with that either.

"Don't make a face," she says. "I'm not thrilled with it either, but I don't think we can dismiss anything that might give us an edge—you an edge—out of hand until we've explored it more fully."

"Over my dead body that you or my children go to live with him again," Nick replies furiously.

"Not even then. But let's hope it doesn't come to that," she returns.

%%%%

There's still no decision made as to what they're going to do to clear Nick. Part of that is they're not exactly sure what all charges he's facing, but Adalind argues it doesn't matter and that they can figure something out when they get to Portland and know more. She's anxious to see their friends, to know what's going on.

To see if they're okay.

And it's this, and perhaps the fact he loves her so much, and doesn't want to see her disappointed, that finally persuades Nick to acquiesce to her desire to go home.

The drive back to Portland is as fraught with inclement weather as the drive fleeing it. They're hit with the first snow storm of the season as they cross into Idaho, and Adalind's reminded of their adventure when they left Portland. The snow's heavy and thick the further west they go and within a couple of hours the roads start closing. Adalind wonders aloud if they should stop, remembering being snowed in for days at a remote cabin in the middle of nowhere, and knowing there's likely little vacancy at any of the hotels along the way. Nick shakes his head.

"Supposed to turn into rain if we can get past the mountains here," he says and Adalind nods, looking back at her children. Kelly's playing with a toy attached to his baby carrier, and Diana's reading a book, looking up occasionally at the scenery going buy. It's a far cry from the trip to Montana all those months ago, when they only had the clothes on their backs and not much else. Adalind's better prepared this round, having anticipated all worst-case scenarios and the supplies they would need. Still, the jeep's not filled with too much more than what they fled with over a year ago: more clothes, food, and blankets, and a portable play pen and stroller for Kelly, and a few toys and books to keep the kids occupied. Most of it, Nick pointed out, will likely have to be abandoned, so it's mainly what they can carry anyway.

The snow keeps up, to varying degrees until they reach Oregon and then a sleety-rain falls most of the rest of the way there, ending in just a steady, heavy rain by the time they reach the west coast.

It's late into the night when they reach the outskirts of Portland and the streets are scarce with activity. It's strange, looking at the buildings and streets that should be so familiar but seem so foreign now.

"It's so quiet," Adalind murmurs to Nick and he nods, looking around himself, keeping an eye for anything that might threaten. She wasn't expecting it to be so barren, although the rain and the chill are likely keeping people off the streets, not to mention how late it is, but still, she had expected more in the way people out and about in a normally bustling night-life and she's disappointed.

She keeps expecting to see red and blue lights flash behind her, but they make their way to the industrial part of Portland where they once lived without incident. Nick drives past the loft and they both crane their necks to look up at it.

"Looks empty," Adalind remarks. It's dark and the lot around it is empty of any cars. There's a few vagrants sleeping in a couple of alleyways as they pass, but nothing unusual and Nick circles the block before driving on.

"Probably been abandoned since we left it," Nick says. "We'll see if we can park closer to the access point, but I think we're going to have to hoof it most of the way," Nick relays and Adalind nods, looking out at the rain.

"Do you think anyone else found out about the tunnels?" Adalind asks him.

"I guess we'll find out," he says with a grim look.

He finds a place to park down a darkened alleyway, startling a couple of stray animals and another vagrant, who blearily blinks his eyes in the light before swearing at them and slumping over again. Nick eyes him warily, but the homeless woman covers her face and body with a worn coat without a second glance their way.

Adalind does her best to cover up Diana and Kelly, strapped to her back in a harness, from the rain as they start their trek to the access point, Nick in the lead. He's carrying a couple of flashlights and his park service issued pistol, as he glances cautiously around him, head cocked as he listens.

They're both tense as they move along as quietly and quickly as possible. They keep as much as they can to the shadows before they encounter some large industrial machinery and pipes. Nick's pace noticeably hastens and they squeeze through some tight spaces, Adalind maneuvering carefully so as not to bump Kelly.

"It smells here," Diana remarks as Adalind tries not to cough.

"Shhh, it'll be all right," Adalind admonishes, hoping they don't encounter anything worse than a few bad smells.

Nick reaches a four foot by four foot vent and crouches down, setting his flashlight on the ground and handing Adalind his gun. She holds it gingerly, the feel of the weapon foreign in her hand, before tightening her grip after a glance at Diana shivering in the rain.

Nick's soaking wet, too, having given his coat for more cover for the children, and his fingers slip when he first tugs on a corner of the vent. He glances around, Adalind following suit, to verify their still alone and applies a little more force with a grunt. After a few more tries it finally comes free with a metallic squeak. Adalind breathes a sigh of relief, looking around her again, noting the dark shadows cast about by the machinery.

"I'll go in first, make sure it's clear, then you can send Kelly and then Diana," Nick says, and Adalind nods, trying not to shiver. She's getting wet, too, her shoulder and part of her hair and face soaked.

She strains her ears, when Nick disappears after grabbing his flashlight, listening carefully for a shout, an expression of distress from him, or rustle of someone sneaking up from behind, but all she can hear is the rain pounding against the surfaces, and Kelly trying to fight off his covering.

Nick appears a second later, and waves for his son. She carefully shrugs out from the harness and hands Nick Kelly, watching closely as Nick takes hold of him and sets him inside the tunnel before holding out an arm for Diana, who clambers through, before Adalind brings up the rear, sliding in with a grateful sigh, glad to find the tunnel mostly dry. Nick pulls the vent shut and hands Adalind a flashlight.

They begin making their way down the passages, the children between them. Nick's shoes squelch with each step he takes and Kelly finds the noise amusing, forcing a sudden halt to their progress. Nick gives Adalind a pained look as Kelly giggles and she bends down and takes Kelly in her arms, trying to shush him.

"We make any more noise we're going to have an answer to our question real quick," Nick says quietly.

"Maybe we should just sit here for a bit and see if he falls asleep," Adalind suggests. "It might give your shoes a chance to dry off, too," she adds and Nick nods reluctantly after a moment.

"I'm hungry," Diana adds, and Nick slides his eyes to Diana before nodding again.

There's not much in the way of food, just a couple of granola bars Adalind stashed in her coat pockets, but she offers one to Diana who wrinkles her nose at it. She bounces Kelly gently in her arms, humming a tune as she tries to lull him to sleep.

"It's not working," Nick remarks after ten minutes as Kelly gets more fussy and fidgety.

"We might as well continue," Adalind says with a sigh. "Maybe he'll get tired if he walks a little. He's been cooped up in the car all day."

The only thing it feels like Kelly gets is louder, Adalind thinks, but maybe it's because they're all so paranoid of attracting attention that any noise just seems amplified. They reach the end of one passageway and then another before encountering a metal ladder. Nick puts the flashlight in his mouth and quickly climbs up to take a look, before climbing back down. He straps Kelly into the harness and reclimbs the ladder, Diana and Adalind carefully following.

Kelly quiets down considerably once he's strapped to Nick, and Adalind's not sure if he can sense the tension radiating from Nick or if he's just content to be daddy's boy, up close to the action, and jesus, she hopes they don't see any action. They proceed through another series of tunnels before Nick rounds the corner and grounds to a sudden halt.

It's so unexpected, that Adalind and Diana nearly run into him and Adalind snatches Diana in fear, pulling her back towards her as Nick cocks his head and holds up a hand. Even Kelly quiets, and Adalind strains her ears to hear whatever it is that has Nick worried.

"Somebody's coming," he says so quietly she almost misses it. He shrugs quickly out of the harness and hands Kelly to Adalind, as he clicks off his flashlight. She does the same, catching the blue-black steel of his gun before the light winks out, as he pushes Diana back more firmly against her mother and crouches down, praying Kelly stays quiet.

Her heart is pounding in her throat. She pushes Diana behind her, and hands her Kelly, preparing to defend Nick and her children from whatever is coming their way.

"Stay behind me," she mouths and Diana nods nervously.

She catches a blip of light before it's extinguished, whoever's coming obviously realizing they weren't alone either.

Seconds tick by before Nick moves, and she hears a muffled thump, the sharp intake of air and then more sounds of scrabbling. She woges, still requiring more effort than she's used to after her incident with the stick, and hopes whatever powers she has because of it are enough to help Nick.

There's definitely sounds of contact, and an almost feminine sounding grunt before the air crackles with intensity, the lights in the flashlights suddenly coming to life, blinding them, and Adalind doesn't have time to process what happened as she shouts.

"Nick!"

There's another _whump_ before the light suddenly disappears, disorienting them again, but it's enough.

"Nick?" she hears.

"Trubel?" Adalind says, her face morphing back to her human features.

"Adalind?" the voice calls disbelievingly.

"Trubel?" Nick asks, and there's a sound of an object being smacked against a palm, and the flashlight Adalind's carrying comes to life after a moment.

It's enough to illuminate the passageway, and Trubel's dumbfounded expression. She's bleeding and bruised, and there's a machete in her hand.

"Adalind," Trubel breathes incredulously, eyes flicking back to Nick and Nick lowers the pistol in his hand. "Oh my god is it really you?"

Adalind nods, overcome with emotion at seeing a welcome familiar face.

"It's me," she manages. Trubel looks uncomprehendingly at Nick.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," Nick says. Trubel smiles tremulously, sheathing her machete and looking around, catching sight of Diana and Kelly peeking around the corner. Her eyebrows arch in surprise at the children.

"You're back," Trubel says, as though she still can't quite believe it and Nick nods, holstering his pistol.

"We've got your message," Nick says by way of explanation, and Trubel nods, focusing on his face. He's on his ass a second later, clutching his nose.

"Nick!" Adalind gasps, rushing to his side. "Trubel!" Adalind admonishes sharply. Trubel ignores her as she looms over Nick.

"Where the hell have you been?"


	35. Part Seven - Chapter Five

AN: For you all. In the states, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone, and to everyone else, enjoy your weekend. Hope to be back in a couple of weeks with the next part. Thank you everybody for the reviews; glad to know the story hasn't been forgotten by you all.

%%%%

"You don't know how much I've missed you," Trubel says to Nick, who's got a make-shift ice pack of a bag of frozen corn against his face.

"You're right, I would have never have guessed you missed me," Nick says drily and Trubel shrugs. "Feels like you hit me dead center," he adds.

"Sorry, just...overcome with emotion," she says. Her eyes flicker to Kelly when he says something, no longer a garbled mess of vowels and consonants but some distinguishable words in there.

"He's walking and talking," she says in disbelief and Adalind nods.

"Yup, can't hardly shut him up now," Adalind says. "He takes after his father," she adds and Nick flicks a look her way, as he tentatively tests out his nose with his fingers. It doesn't appear to be broken at least, and she supposes between his Grimm healing and the stick he'll be normal again in no time.

"He's like his mother," he retorts.

"Charming, clever and resilient, you mean?" she replies.

"No, stubborn and willful."

"You tried to hurt daddy," Diana accuses, interrupting them, and Trubel's eyes move from the exchange she's following between Nick and Adalind to Diana. Adalind raises her eyebrows in surprise, since it's not often she hears Diana refer to Nick as such. Adalind often does, because it's easier to lump Nick as daddy for both children rather than single it out.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Nick assures, though Diana doesn't look pacified by this.

"What happened in the tunnel, with the lights?" Trubel asks. "Was that you?" Trubel asks Adalind, who shakes her head. "That was weird."

"I think that was Diana," Adalind says, though she's not sure what Diana was trying to accomplish with it. Now that the adrenaline has faded, she thinks whatever it was that Diana was trying to do, didn't go quite as she planned. She vaguely recollects the halo of purple irises and the intense look of concentration on Diana's face, a foreign expression given how easily she could call upon her powers before, and she thinks it's more evidence the stick has had some effect on their daughter, just not what they think, or at least the extent she and Nick had hoped. They had hoped, at the very least, to have a fully suppressed hexenbiest.

"Wow. So you're Diana," Trubel says, looking at Diana and Diana stares back defiantly, still upset over Nick's ill-treatment. "I've heard a lot about you."

"This is Trubel," Adalind says. "She's a _very_ good friend of ours."

Diana casts dubious eyes on her mother at that claim, but Trubel holds out her hand to shake and Diana reluctantly takes it after another look at Adalind.

"You're a Grimm. Like Nick and mommy Kelly," Diana says, before she releases Trubel's hand.

"Yeah, I am."

"Did you know mommy Kelly?" Diana asks her and Trubel glances at Nick before shaking her head regretfully.

"No, I didn't. But I have heard a lot about her."

"She took care of me when I was really little. Before I found my mommy," Diana informs her.

"Yeah, I hear she did a pretty good job. Everyone says she loved you very much," Trubel agrees, and this seems to mollify Diana some. "Where have you guys been?" Trubel asks Nick, getting back to the matter at hand.

"We'll get into that in a minute. Where is everyone else?" Nick deflects.

"Are they okay?" Adalind interjects, because she can't stand not knowing what's going on and if something terrible happened.

"Everyone's fine," Trubel says and Adalind breathes a sigh of relief that's aborted with Trubel's next remark. "Mostly."

"Mostly?" Adalind repeats.

"What's going on?" Nick asks. "Why did Eve try to contact us?"

"So, it did work," Trubel notes in surprise.

"Yes, and I'd appreciate if you never use any of my children for something like that again," Adalind informs her sharply. "That kind of spell work is dangerous, for both parties," she adds. "I'm surprised Eve didn't have some side effects after trying that, especially the second time."

"Sorry, we weren't sure that it was even working. We were trying to find any lead we could on you, but every time we attempted the spell, all we could see were trees, and then once Diana, but we couldn't be certain where you were and what was going on."

"Why were you trying to find us?" Adalind asks and Trubel glances at her, sobering. Trubel looks at Nick, eyes running over his bruised face before she seems to draw into herself.

"I think maybe we all need to talk. The others will want to know you're back, too."

"Have you been staying here at the loft?" Nick asks, looking around.

"Yeah, in case you came back," Trubel says. Adalind looks around, too, noting some of the changes, but there's not much out of place to make note of.

"Since we left?" Adalind asks and Trubel nods.

"Me and Josh and Eve kind of used it as a home base while you were gone since HW was destroyed.

"Josh is here in Portland?" Nick asks in surprise.

"Where's Eve?" Adalind asks, looking around, but there doesn't seem to be much evidence of her. At least she doesn't see any leather body suits and assorted wigs lying around.

"A lot of stuff has happened," Trubel says. "You've been gone for over a year," she glances again at Kelly, and Adalind realizes with a jolt that the last time Trubel saw Kelly he was only a few months old. Now he's a toddler, and will celebrate his second birth day in a matter of a few months.

"Where is Josh?" Nick asks.

"Baby-sitting duty," Trubel replies shortly and Nick's brow crinkles in confusion.

"Baby-sitting?" Nick repeats, and Trubel levels a look at him again.

"A lot of stuff has happened," she says again cryptically.

%%%%

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea to be skulking around Monroe's late at night," Nick remarks. "Last time I did that I had to buy him a new window." He adds, at Adalind's inquisitive look, "I don't think we can afford to replace another window at this point, either."

"I heard about that," Trubel replies. It's the most words she's said since they embarked on the drive over here, piling into an ancient looking Jeep Wagoneer that Adalind learns was Nick's aunt's. There's not a car seat for Kelly, and Adalind spent the ride nervously clutching him in her lap, as insanely worried about a car accident injuring him as she is about a Wesen attack. Most of Trubel's responses since they left the loft have been single word answers or a grunt and Nick's stopped asking her questions.

They're tiptoeing towards what Adalind can remember is the back entrance of Monroe's house, Nick carrying an increasingly tired Diana and Adalind's toting an equally exhausted Kelly in her arms. Nick takes note of the vehicles parked nearby, and especially in the driveway.

"Did Rosalee get a new car?" he asks in surprise. It's a silver minivan, Adalind notes, but it's too dark to see much else.

"Like I said, a lot's changed," Trubel replies. She reaches the back door but it opens before she can get her hand on the knob.

"Trubel, what the hell?" Monroe barks gruffly, hair askew in the dim light spilling out from the kitchen. He's dressed in a white T-shirt and plaid pajama pants, with and navy robe thrown haphazardly over his lanky frame. "It's two a.m.!"

"Sorry," Trubel says not sounding it in the least. "Thought you might want to see this with your own two eyes."

"See what?" Monroe gripes, rubbing his eyes as he peers confusedly at Trubel. The door opens wider and Rosalee appears beside him.

"What's going on?" she asks groggily.

"Can we just get in the house?" Nick breaks in, glancing around him, and Adalind nods in agreement. It's cold and while it's no longer raining heavily, it's still a steady drizzle, chilling their already cool skin. Like Nick, she doesn't like being exposed like this, either, and though it's the dead of the night, she's still not sure how many people might be taking note of what's going on. They didn't spend the last year and a half nearly being careful only to have everything blown apart the first night they're back in Portland.

Rosalee and Monroe go stock still, Monroe's eyes darting uncomprehendingly to Trubel as Trubel steps back, allowing Nick and Adalind, standing on the stoop two steps back, to come into view.

"Nick?" Monroe breathes, stepping out onto the back porch, eyes bulging in disbelief. He glances at Trubel for verification and Trubel bobs her head. He's pushed aside a second later when Rosalee joins him.

"Nick? Adalind?" she says staring at them dumbfounded. She's put on some weight, Adalind notes, and both she and Monroe look exhausted.

Then again, it's the middle of the night, and she doubts she and Nick look any better.

"Told you you'd want to see it with your own two eyes," Trubel says.

"Rosalee," Adalind murmurs, because seeing her old friend brings home how much she's missed her. She's overcome for a moment with emotion, shocked at how much these two people have come to mean to her, Rosalee especially, in what was a such a short amount of time.

"Oh my god," Rosalee breathes, bring her hands up to cover her mouth and nose. "Is it really you?"

Adalind nods.

"It's really us," she says.

"Oh my god," Rosalee says again.

"Nick," Monroe says again, staring hard at him, and Nick summons a nervous smile. "It's been a long time," Monroe says after a moment.

"Oh my god, get in here," Rosalee commands and Adalind smiles in relief as Rosalee waves them in. They clamber up the back stairs and step into the kitchen, managing to close the door behind them before they're prevented from going any further inward by the clog of people facing them.

"I can't believe it's you," Rosalee says in awe, and then she's gliding forward, arms open and Adalind hugs her friend in relief. "You don't know how much I've missed you," Rosalee says.

"I've missed you, too," Adalind replies, eyes filling with tears.

"Nick," Monroe says again, and Adalind and Rosalee pull back from their embrace and turn to the men. "Where you been, buddy?" Adalind frowns, glancing at Nick, who's carrying a slumbering Diana against his shoulder. There's a bite to the tone as Monroe asks the question, and a subtle squaring off as they face one another.

"I know, it's been a while," Nick says.

Rosalee keeps an arm around Adalind, as though if she lets go Adalind might slip away again in the night, and Adalind takes a moment to register some things in the kitchen that take her notice. A dish rack with a half a dozen baby bottles drying on it. A couple of towels that look like baby washcloths and what appears to be a bib. Not one, or two, but three highchairs. She starts to open her mouth, draw attention to it when Monroe continues.

"A while?" Monroe repeats. "It's been a year. Over a year. Hell, it's been, what has it been, Rosalee-"

"Monroe," Rosalee interjects.

"—Wow, it's been, sixteen months, Nick."

"I know, I'm sorry—"

"Sorry? You're sorry? He's sorry," Monroe says to Rosalee.

"Monroe—don't," Rosalee begins.

"Sorry? You're sorry?" he says, clearly getting warmed up, and Nick must sense the barely controlled fury as he shifts Diana off his shoulder, setting her down gently on her feet and running his hand over Diana's head as she moves protectively closer to Nick.

"No, you know what? _I'm_ sorry," Monroe says.

"I know we owe you guys an explanation," Nick begins, and Monroe waves his hand for him to stop.

"Why would you owe us an explanation?" Monroe says loudly.

"Monroe," Rosalee hisses.

"I mean, we only thought you were _dead,_ " Monroe continues, ignoring his wife. "I mean, just for the first twelve months or so," he adds. "Then we realized that you were avoiding us. I guess after everything you just didn't want to talk to us."

"It wasn't—" Nick starts, and Adalind hands Diana her brother, feeling she needs to have her hands free to help defend herself and Nick, but Monroe cuts Nick off before he can start to explain.

"You know, not even to tell that, 'oh, hey, we're _not_ dead; we're fine, and oh, by the way, we're living the good life under new identities while our friends deal with all the shit in Portland we left them to. You know?" Monroe says, shouting.

"Monroe! Lower your voice," Rosalee snaps. Adalind glances nervously at Rosalee.

"But don't worry, you didn't miss anything!" he adds sarcastically, getting louder. "Not the least of which your _friends_ mourning you, and wondering what happened to you, and-!"

He's cut off by a sharp, loud, tinny cry and both he and Nick look towards the sound. A baby monitor, sitting on the counter.

"Thank you, Monroe!" Rosalee snaps. "You woke the babies up."

"Babies?" Nick asks, not missing the plural, and indeed, another cry follows, and soon, what sounds like another. Adalind stares in bewilderment at the device before looking at Rosalee who frowns at her husband, who finally takes a breath when he meets his wife's eyes and quiets down.

"Right," Monroe says, and looks back at Nick. "Yeah, and most of all, you didn't miss the most incredible day of my life with the birth of my three children."

"Three?" Adalind blurts out, wanting to make sure she heard right. She looks to Rosalee for affirmation.

"Excuse me," Rosalee says, hurrying out of the room, into the dining room and then the living room, as Nick and Adalind half follow, before encountering a man with unruly blonde curls slowly coming awake on the davenport.

"Is that-? I'm sorry, I'll get—hey Trubel," he says in surprise, as Rosalee blows past without acknowledging him. The man's eyes widen comically. "Holy-Nick?"

"Josh?" Nick says and Adalind looks back at the man.

"You're back?"

"From the dead," Monroe agrees caustically, and then follows his wife up the stairs where the cries are intensifying.

"When did you get back?" Josh asks.

"Tonight. Found them at the loft," Trubel says as Josh rubs his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to be helping them?" she adds to Josh and he nods with another yawn and gets to his feet. He starts to make his way up the stairs when Adalind hears the hushed whispers of some furious conversation float across the room from the speaker, still capturing sounds, as Rosalee and Monroe exchange words.

"Did he say he has three kids?" Nick repeats, looking at Trubel and Josh for an explanation.

"Triplets," Josh says when Trubel doesn't offer anything. "Two girls and a boy."

Adalind glances around the room and notices all the baby detritus, the toys, the swings, the diaper packs. The playpen, the pacifiers. She turns slowly in a circle, taking it all in, remembering when Kelly was born, when Nick took them home to his house he once shared with Juliette, and how everything they could possibly need or want had been found and assembled seemingly (and literally) overnight. Everything Monroe and Rosalee had done for them, in such a short amount of time, to ensure the house was ready for an infant. She's overcome with emotion, regret, that she didn't have the chance to return the favor, though she doubts it would have anywhere near as impressive a feat as what Rosalee and Monroe pulled off. Still, she wishes she had the opportunity to have tried.

"How long ago?" Nick asks after a moment.

"About four or five months now, I guess?" Josh asks, looking at Trubel for confirmation.

Nick looks around the room, too, noticing all the changes, his detective eye taking it all in, probably details that Adalind wouldn't even notice, or know to make note of, and she can tell he's filled with regret to.

"Maybe we should go," Nick says to Adalind, and she nods, absently listening to Monroe and Rosalee try to soothe their children as they continue to argue. "The kids are exhausted anyway," he adds, and she glances at Diana and Kelly, quietly taking in their surroundings. Adalind realizes how tired she is, too, the weight of everything—these last sixteen months, was it Monroe said. It seems so much longer?—life on the run, the stress of remaining hidden, the loss of friends and loved ones, and special moments, pressing down heavily on her.

The crying intensifies as Rosalee hurries down the stairs, two chubby, red-faced infants tucked against her neck.

"Sorry," she says and Adalind tries to get a good look at them, their cherubic faces with their eyes squeezed tight.

"We better let you guys take care of business," Nick says, ushering a tired Diana towards her mother. "We can pick this up later."

"You're not leaving?" Rosalee says sharply.

There's another noise as Monroe pounds down the stairs, another infant tucked against him. Rosalee tries to bounce the two in her arms to calm them, and Adalind instinctively holds out her hands for one.

"I think it's best it we let you guys go," Nick says, taking Kelly from Diana's arms.

"Ohhh, no, you're not going anywhere," Monroe replies. "You can sit your ass down right there, and wait."

Nick pauses, looking at Monroe, who's trying to shush the baby in his arms, and Adalind, who's cradling the baby Rosalee passes to her delicately, breathing in the sweet smell of baby powder.

"Shhh," she soothes, holding the little one close, one of the girls, judging by the print on the sleeper. There's a wild tangle of light brown, curly hair, and a tiny button of a nose. "She's beautiful," Adalind says and Rosalee offers a faint smile.

"Of course she is," Monroe interjects, "she takes after her mother." Rosalee rolls her eyes at Monroe, but the smile intensifies. Actually, looking at this baby's features, Adalind would say that she takes after Monroe more than Rosalee. "That's Emilia," Rosalee introduces, and Diana makes her way over to Adalind to take a look. Adalind dips down so Diana can see her, humming a tune lightly, as she attempts to lull the baby back to sleep.

"And this is Emma," Rosalee adds, indicating the baby in her arms.

"And this," Monroe says, depositing the child he was holding unceremoniously into Nick's arms, "is Eddie. Eddie, this is your Uncle Nick. The Grimm," he adds staring darkly at Nick. "I promised your sister I'd kick his ass the next time I'd see him." Nick's awkwardly trying to shuffle the writhing bundle in his arms for a better grip, and after a moment, he finally manages one, bringing Eddie around where they can look at each other. Eddie quiets immediately when he lays eyes on Nick, as though he can instinctively sense something fundamentally different about Nick versus his parents, but then, Adalind reasons, babies were often fascinated by unfamiliar sights and faces. Still, she wonders if it's instinct, that sense that Nick could pose a danger to a wesen like Eddie.

Nick glances at Monroe to see how serious his threat is.

"Wow," Trubel says, impressed. She nods at the baby Nick's holding. Josh also stares at them, stunned.

"I've never seen him quiet down so quickly."

"There. See? Now you _can't_ leave," Rosalee says, still trying to quiet her daughter. "We might have another one for you to work your charm on."

"What?" Nick asks, oblivious to what they're referring to.

"You do have a way with kids," Adalind remarks, recalling there were often times when she was at wit's end that he could calm Kelly, sometimes so easily it left her feeling equal parts grateful for the reprieve and ungrateful that he should be so lucky to have effected it without any effort on his part. Of course, Nick thought the same was true about her, and that he generally possessed no special talent in baby-quieting, other than getting to reap the rewards of being the parent who comes home at the end of the day, and therefore was missed.

"Yeah, just not my own," Nick says, patting Eddie's back lightly, before extending his arms out to Monroe to take him.

"You better hold on to that," Monroe tells him and after a moment when it's clear Monroe's not about to take him, Nick nods in confusion.

"Okay," Nick says.

"Good. Because you holding my son in your arms is the only reason I'm _not_ kicking your ass right now."

%%%%

The atmosphere seems charged with all the things everyone is trying so hard not to say, at least not right now, and Adalind wishes, even though she's glad to see her friends again, that she and Nick were back home alone at the loft. The distance would give them time to get their heads wrapped around everything, and a chance to get on the same page with how they're going to explain why they've been gone. The loft is not theirs anymore, though Trubel offers to find someplace else to stay now that Nick and Adalind are back, but Adalind doesn't miss the way the others tense up, and she thinks it's because now that they have their eyes on them again, they don't want to let she and Nick out of their sight, lest they disappear again.

In the end, they all wind up spending the night at Monroe and Rosalee's and it's a packed house, with six adults and five children under one roof. Josh and Trubel escape sometime around dawn, and then it's just the nine of them, and it's enough bedlam and chaos to keep them all busy that no one's able to delve into the reasons why Nick and Adalind left, and why they're back.

Adalind's not sure if it's a good thing or not, since it gives time for the shock over their return to fade and the resentment and confusion over why they left to fester and move to the forefront. She still senses a simmering resentment with Monroe over Nick. He's polite to her and Diana, but he's downright curt with Nick and Nick eyes him warily every time Monroe passes by him, still holding Monroe's sleeping son in his arms.

Rosalee makes polite conversation, and Adalind doesn't sense any animosity or resentment there, just a distance and quiet sadness about her and it makes Adalind wonder what went on in their absence, and how she can begin to explain or atone for what and why they did what they did.

The reasons that seemed so sound and solid once, now seem flimsy and selfish in light of what they missed and the hurt they've inflicted on their friends.

"I can't believe how big Kelly's gotten," Rosalee remarks, looking at him as he plays on the floor, chattering to Nick and his sister. He's fascinated by the other infants, and it gives Adalind a moment to wonder what he might be like with another sibling. She quickly dismisses the thought with a slight shake of her head.

"Yeah, he's growing like a weed," Adalind agrees.

"He's talking," Rosalee notes, and Adalind nods. "When did he start doing that?"

"About eight months ago, I guess," Adalind says, thinking back. The novelty of Kelly talking has long since worn off for them.

"What was his first word? Mama?" Adalind shakes her head. "Dada?" Rosalee asks with a smile.

"Bau," Adalind says, "If you're going by what Diana tells you."

"Bow?"

"Yeah, like fuchsbau. It's that little stuffed animal he's had since we brought him home from the hospital. It's his favorite toy you gave him," Adalind says and Rosalee's smile turns bittersweet. "What about you?" Adalind says, trying to turn the tables and engage her friend. "Triplets? Wow, what was that like?"

Rosalee's bittersweet smile saddens a little, before she forces a brighter expression on her face.

"What?" Adalind says. "Did something happen? Did everything go okay with the delivery?"

"Everything went okay with the delivery," Rosalee reassures, "just that there were two more than what I was expecting."

"I can't imagine," Adalind says. And it's true, she has no idea what she'd do, let alone Nick, had Kelly been one of three children. Nick probably never would have come back to the hospital, she thinks, and she's doubly grateful he did. She was so terrified of the possibility of raising Kelly alone, she has no idea the fear she would feel with the knowledge she was responsible for three infants. "How did Monroe take it?"

"Are you kidding? He was beyond—" Rosalee pauses, searching for the right word.

"Excited? Ecstatic? Over the moon?"

"Terrified, but yes, all those."

"How about you?" Adalind asks, because there seems to be something there that she's not saying. "How did you handle everything?"

Rosalee shakes her head, looking down at her daughter as she coos at the baby. "I guess you could say I had a little bit of a hard time," she says.

"Juggling three babies? I can only imagine," Adalind replies. "Three feedings, three diaper changings, three crying babies – it was hard enough with just Kelly," Adalind remembers, "I had no idea what I was doing, and I was so glad I had Nick, at least, to help. And you, of course," she adds, fiddling with the mark left by Bonaparte's ring on her finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to return the favor," Adalind ventures, looking up at Rosalee. "I wish I had been. It might have helped with some of the load, and I actually know a little bit about being a mom and taking care of an infant now. You could have speed-dialed me, for once."

Rosalee smiles briefly, and looks back at her child, before nodding in agreement.

"I wanted to," Rosalee admits with a sniffle. "I had a hard time with it."

"Being a new mom? To three? It's a lot," Adalind agrees, and Rosalee shakes her head.

"That's not just it. I had a hard time with all of it. The pregnancy, the birth, being a mom, just being excited," Rosalee says, smiling briefly again at her daughter, and Adalind sobers, feeling a pang in her chest. "It all seemed to be so much and everything-well, everything just seemed to come at us all at once."

"Rosalee, I'm so—I'm so sorry, I would have done anything to help you," Adalind says, but the promise rings hollow, even to her. Yes, she might have done anything, but she didn't and she couldn't, and it was impossible to help at all, hiding away from everyone. She was literally hundreds of miles away, unaware of the difficulties Rosalee was going through.

"You don't know how many times I wanted to call you," Adalind admits, throat clogging with emotion. "I missed you so much, and everything was so—it was so overwhelming."

"Why didn't you call?" Rosalee asks, dark brown eyes penetrating as they meet Adalind's blue ones.

"We were scared," Adalind says. "We were afraid contacting you would bring more problems and troubles for you, and we were scared that any contact with you might lead Sean and the police to us. Believe me, the reasoning all seemed much simpler when we were telling it to ourselves."

"It wasn't easy here with you gone," Rosalee admits, "and Renard, the police, Black claw, yeah, they were looking for you guys for a long time, and harassing us for a long time for any info." Rosalee looks down at her daughter again. "I get why you left," she says, glancing towards the other room where Monroe had disappeared and at Nick, still seated with his burden on the couch.

Adalind shakes her head. "I know there's nothing—" she begins, trying to explain.

"I wanted to leave, too. Kept begging Monroe to do it, especially after Renard took office and everything went to hell. Believe me, whether Monroe will admit to it or not, he understands, too. What nobody understands is why we never heard anything at all from you guys in all that time."

"We wanted you guys to be safe," Adalind says and Rosalee scrutinizes her.

"We weren't," she says simply. "Not after everything that happened. We would have been safer had we had Nick, and you, with us. To fight. To defend us."

"Nick disagrees," Adalind replies. "He thinks all he brings is destruction and suffering to everyone around him."

"So why is he here?" Rosalee asks. "Why are you?"

Adalind bites her lip, but she knows a large part of Nick's decision to come back to Portland is because Adalind wanted them to, that she's unhappy, and that she was adamant about rejoining their friends, and she made sure, however subtly, to make it difficult for him to say no to that. To her. She wasn't naïve enough that she didn't understand in their relationship that she held some power, some sway over Nick. She was extremely hesitant to use it, though, not wanting to risk abusing his feelings for her. But she had been thinking for a long time that their little experiment in the woods was destined to fail, ultimately, and she was tired of trying to hide what she and Nick and their children were. She and Nick had run long enough. It was time to go back home.

"He was worried about you, we both were," she begins. "I—" she cuts off, glancing into the living room where it appeared Nick was dozing lightly in the chair. "I missed you guys, so much, especially you, but everyone," Adalind says. "I missed my life. The one before Sean and Black Claw took it over. Nothing really changed when we left – Nick tried to put being a Grimm aside, but wesen just kept finding him." Rosalee's eyebrows raise. "We were in the middle of nowhere, with no one, and no allies, and yes, we had some good moments, and it gave us an opportunity to figure some things out, and grow closer, but I just felt like…you can't run from what you are. You can't hide it, and I think our children deserve the chance to grow up embracing what they are. There are some things about our time away, I wouldn't change," she admits. "I think it allowed for Nick and I to get comfortable and not have everything that haunts our relationship hanging over us, and I think it gave Nick some peace of mind to just be able to focus on his family and not feel like he was pulled in a hundred directions trying to be everyone's savior, but… this is where I belong, Rosalee. This is where he belongs."

"And Diana? How has she been handling everything?" Rosalee asks after a moment, preparing a bottle for her daughter. "You must have been so happy to have your daughter back after everything."

"I was, I am. Good, she's been good…it's been…difficult at times, but I think things are finally settling down with her. She loves having a little brother," Adalind says, "and she and Nick have gotten really close. Things are in a better place with my family, and I finally have them all together under one roof. I thought sometimes it might never happen." They both look at Diana, entertaining Kelly, as they encounter Nick, who awakens when Diana says something to him.

"How's she doing with her powers?" Rosalee asks and Adalind sobers, debating how to answer.

"It's been challenging, she has a hard time controlling them sometimes, but things have been better, and I think we may have hit upon a long-term solution that might work." She's saved from further explanation when Trubel and Josh return.

"I got donuts," she announces, and Nick looks up.

"Great, I'm famished," Adalind says. "We haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

This is evident in the speed in which they dispatch the dozen donuts and by the time Josh makes his selection, after brewing a cup of coffee, there's only half a donut left.

"Wow," Josh says. "Maybe we should have got two dozen."

"Obviously," Trubel replies around a mouthful of maple glazed.

"I got your message," a voice calls from the back. "All ten of them. What's so important and why do we need to bring hazelnut creamer to hear it?" Wu says, holding up a container of coffee creamer in his hand. He stops, mouth still open as he catches sight of Adalind, then quickly looks around the room and spies Nick.

"Nick!" Wu exclaims, and he hurries over to his friend, and Nick struggles to get to his feet, deciding to meet what might be a hostile encounter standing up. "Oh my god, are you a sight for sore eyes."

"What?" A disbelieving voice says behind Adalind and she turns to face the source.

"Hank?" she says.

"Adalind?" Hank replies, stunned. "Adalind," he says again before spotting Nick. "Nick."

Nick smiles uncertainly, Wu's reception the warmest he's gotten since they've been back, and judging by the slightly closed-off expression on Hank, likely the only one.

"Jesus, is it really you?" Hank asks his former partner in shock.

"It's really me," Nick says, looking down at Kelly when Kelly pipes in with something. Hank follows his gaze as his own sobers.

She doesn't really get it, she keeps thinking, how shocking it is to their friends how much Kelly has grown. How much time has passed by. When they last lived in Portland, Kelly wasn't even crawling yet, and now he's toddling around and jabbering in his baby speak to anyone who will listen. He's almost two, and starting to show the tell-tale signs of them being terrible ones. He's rambunctious and curious, and he delights in his environment, and his parents, and his sister.

"Is—that's Kelly?" Hank asks dumbly. Nick picks up his son, and Adalind wonders if it's a protective instinct and whose it is serving more? Hank catches sight of Diana at Nick's hip, also watching the newcomers with a more subdued curiosity.

"Diana?" he asks, and Adalind nods as Diana turns back to Nick and asks who they are. Nick introduces everyone and explains their connection to him as Kelly and Diana take it all in.

"When—how-when did you guys get back?" Hank decides on first.

"Last night," Nick says.

"We got your message," Adalind adds, and everyone looks at Diana, except for Adalind who looks for Eve.

"It worked?" Wu exclaims doubtfully.

"Yeah," Adalind replies dryly. "You could say that. Speaking of, where's Eve?"

Everyone exchanges a glance, and Nick and Adalind exchange a look of their own at the nervousness.

"I think, since everyone's here now, maybe we should start talking about what's been going on over the last year."


	36. Part Seven - Chapter Six

AN: Hey, I'm still alive! Hopefully so is your interest in this story.

AN2: I may have a Christmas/New Year's present for you all in the form of a CTT 'sphere short story, provided I can ever think of a title.

%%%%

"First off, let's start with you guys," Hank says right away. "Where the hell have you been?"

Nick takes a deep breath, and sets Kelly on his feet by Diana. "Diana, why don't you take Kelly in the other room so your mom and I can talk with everyone," Nick says to her. Diana eyes the occupants suspiciously before she reluctantly takes Kelly hand to lead him away.

"Can I play outside?" she asks, and Adalind answers as Nick shakes his head.

"Not right now, honey. Stay inside, and just play in the other room."

"There's no toys," Diana says. "They're all for babies."

"Here," Josh says a little uncertainly. "Why don't you help me organize the triplets' things," and Rosalee offers a grateful smile.

"That would be great," Rosalee says to them and Diana, after another look to her mother, leads Kelly after Josh out of the room.

Nick watches them leave, flicking his eyes to Adalind, before turning back to the others as though facing a firing squad. He squares his shoulders a little, and Adalind realizes somehow or another it literally has become a sort of "us" with her and Nick versus "them" as she's moved protectively closer to Nick thus dividing the room up that way.

"Montana," Nick says shortly in answer to Hank's question and Hank's brow wrinkles.

"What?"

"What the hell is in Montana?" Monroe retorts.

"Nothing, which was exactly the idea," Nick says. "It's about as far away from Black Claw and Royals and Renard trying usurp his way to power as possible, not to mention all the wesen infighting."

"We thought you fled the country," Wu replies.

"We thought you were dead," Hank objects. "Since no one has heard anything since. Not to mention we found your car abandoned in a forest. You know, after you apparently decided to get some new identities."

"You really think you found some wesen free utopia in the mountains?" Monroe continues.

"We were hoping," Adalind murmurs. Rosalee flicks her glance to Adalind. "We just wanted our children to be safe."

"We would have helped keep them safe," Wu says, "you know this."

"Why should you have to?" Nick returns.

"Uhh, because you're our friends, they're kids, and it's the right thing to do."

"They're only in danger because of who they are, and who they are to me," Nick replies. "You're only in danger because of me."

"And me," Adalind adds.

"By trying to help me, you guys were at risk. Black Claw, Renard – they were after me, and anyone who was helping to hide me. I wasn't going to risk losing Adalind or my children and I wasn't going to risk all of you anymore. My mother has already died, Wu's been bitten and turned into a werewolf, Monroe was tortured, Hank was almost killed by Zuri and Juliette became a Hexenbiest, all because of trying to help me. Enough was enough," Nick replies.

"So that's it, game over, you just up and run and hide?" Monroe says incredulously. "I thought Grimms were supposed to be fearless. And you've never backed down from a fight."

"I never had so much to lose before, either," Nick counters. "You have children yourself now. You can't tell me that you wouldn't do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant leaving behind everyone and everything you've ever known."

"I wouldn't ditch my friends," Monroe rebuffs.

"It's not that no one understands why you left," Rosalee begins, looking at the others for consensus. "I think most of us get that, but no one understands why leaving meant never hearing from you again."

"It was necessary," Nick says. "I knew you guys were being watched, that Renard and Black Claw would come after you when he couldn't find me, and that it was safest for everybody if you didn't know where we were or what had happened. If he thought you had any idea where we were he'd never let up."

"Safest for you," Monroe retorts. "It wasn't exactly a picnic here while you were gone."

"It would have been worse if they thought you were hiding me and the kids."

"Not sure if I can imagine a scenario where it was worse," Monroe replies darkly. "It was pretty damn bad there for a while."

"For a while," Nick points out.

"So what were you doing in Montana? How did you survive?" Rosalee asks after a moment, looking at Adalind.

"Nick got a job with fish and wildlife," Adalind says, "and we found a place in the mountains, a cabin in the woods."

"Fish and wildlife?" Hank repeats.

"Game warden. We used the documents, the fake IDs, to start a new life together," Adalind says. "I took care of the kids and we both tried to keep our heads down and not attract attention to ourselves, to varying degrees of success."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, wesen are everywhere, even in a small town in the middle of nowhere, and there's no avoiding it no matter how much you want to," Adalind replies and Nick presses his lips together.

"You're a Grimm, how did you expect to hide that fact indefinitely?"

"Sunglasses," Adalind replies for Nick, and Monroe snorts. "It's worked fairly well so far, considering."

"Considering?"

"Considering I didn't think it would work at all," Adalind clarifies.

"So nobody knows you're a Grimm and nobody knows you're a hexenbiest?" Wu asks them. Adalind shrugs and looks at Nick.

"That was the hope," she says.

"Was?" Wu asks.

"But?" Rosalee replies.

"But, I don't know if it's working as well as we envisioned it."

"Did you envision anything at all? How long were you thinking about leaving?" Rosalee asks Nick.

"A while," Nick says curtly. The others seem shocked by this. Adalind had been, too when she first heard it. He had admitted long ago to Adalind that he had entertained a few wild ideas about running, but never seriously, since it was so foreign to who Nick was that it was fanciful. That is, until Adalind and Kelly had left him. Then, he confessed, he had started to seriously consider ways to shield his family, and himself, from further torment, and the idea of just leaving, just grabbing his family and going, kept growing more and more, especially when Black Claw came to the loft to try to kill him.

It explains how he was able to amass some money together in what she thought was such a short amount of time, she had thought, and Nick had admitted he knew that they would need at least a little cash to get them started. It was the destination though, that he couldn't decide on. It had been his intent to drive as far away from Portland as he could, but the more he had thought about it, the more he realized the risk of being on the road for too long, and the expense. And he had been stuck on how they would survive, hiding out as he likely expected them to be doing. And then he had remembered going to Whitefish in his youth, and he recalled how remote and population-barren Montana was, and that might be the best thing for them.

She wonders, too, if Nick wasn't ever really able to tear himself so completely away from his friends and his life in Portland, that perhaps he had wanted to be close, in case it came down to giving up his pipe dream, or if they needed him, like now. If Nick was as 100% committed to the idea of ditching his friends and his life for his family as he tried to convince himself, and everyone else, he was.

"Well, thanks for the heads up, buddy," Monroe says to him bitingly.

"In case you don't recall, I did give you a heads up. You're welcome," Nick retorts.

"The phone call?" Monroe replies. "Are you kidding me? I could barely even make out what you were saying, never mind what you _weren't_ saying."

"Okay, okay, okay," Rosalee says, holding out her arms for them to stop. Monroe glares at Nick and Nick returns the look just as hotly. "Let's just stay focused."

"So why, after all that, if you don't want to put you children and Adalind in danger, did you even come back at all?" Wu asks him. "Why bring them all with you? There's people looking all over for Diana. Adalind, too, since they believe she's with her mother. Not to mention there's some people in Portland who would like to see your head on a pole. You're right. It's a hell of a risk."

"I know," Nick says. "One that I would have preferred not to have had to take, but you guys forced my hand with that communication spell."

"You mean Diana?"

"We didn't realize at first who was trying to contact us," Adalind says, just that someone was using some bad mojo to do it. Then when we did realize – "

"We thought about ignoring it," Nick admits. "Then we argued about only one of us coming to Portland, but that would leave the other behind and two kids at risk for detection and we didn't know what to expect, not to mention we couldn't agree on who should go and who should stay."

"He means he couldn't convince me let him go and for me to wait at home with the kids for him," Adalind clarifies bitterly.

"And we thought about running again."

"Of course you did," Monroe mutters.

"Ultimately," Nick says, "we decided we'd go together, but yes, that meant bringing the kids with us. You didn't know what had happened, or why you were trying to find us after all that time."

"We've been trying to find you for the last sixteen months!" Trubel says. "That was the first time anything we did produced results."

"So now you're here," Hank says looking at Nick and Nick nods slightly.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Anyone want to elaborate as to why?"

%%%%

It takes a moment, another pregnant pause as everyone looks at each other, but it all begins to come out. Trubel starts, then Rosalee joins in, and soon the others are relating the story. What's been happening in Portland since they've been gone. Some of it's not surprising. Both Adalind and Nick had each been keeping tabs as much as they could without drawing attention to themselves about the goings on in their former city. They've read about the destruction and dissent going on in the mayor's office and the city.

"Things have been so bad, especially for him, I think he would welcome help," Hank says at Nick's disbelieving look.

"I doubt that," Nick retorts.

"That's if he can just over his ego," Adalind returns. "He may need help, but that doesn't mean he's going to ask for it," Adalind clarifies when they look at her. "That puts him at a disadvantage. He'd much rather manipulate the situation and you so that you owe it to him, not that you're doing him a favor. Nick's right. It sounds like you guys had a pretty good pissing contest before everything went to hell," she says to Nick. She's aware that Sean tried to use the fact Black claw had Kelly and Adalind to coerce Nick to join his side, that he ridiculed Nick and Adalind's fledgling (or so Sean thought, Adalind thinks) relationship, and that he failed to realize how much of Nick's ire and resentment he had incited by taking them away from Nick.

"He's got a mess. Of his own making, and everywhere he looks it's only getting worse. He's deeply unpopular and he's running out of allies."

"He deserves everything he's getting," Adalind says.

"Yeah, but the people of Portland don't," Hank counters.

"So what is it you think we can do?" Nick asks them.

"Help," Trubel says simply. "I'm trying, but I can't do it all. There's just too many."

"How? I'm still wanted for murder, and probably kidnapping and who knows what else. I can't do anything so long as there's a wanted poster with my picture on it."

"We need to figure out a way to clear Nick's name, or get Sean to drop the charges," Adalind says.

"That might be difficult since he's under investigation himself," Wu says.

"Maybe we can convince him to help Nick is to help himself," Adalind remarks thoughtfully.

"By pinning everything on me?" Nick replies. "Believe me, that will be the angle he's looking for."

"Adalind's right. We've got to figure out a way that clears Nick from the charges he's facing and reinstates him to the police force. And maybe we can use what's going on with him to do it."

"Which brings us to our next order of business: cleaning house at the precinct."

Nick looks at Hank probingly.

"It's filled with Black Claw sympathizers," Wu elaborates.

"I hate to say it, but you might need Renard to help with that," Rosalee ventures. "We've got to restore some order to the city."

"I don't know if Renard is the best solution for that," Nick says.

"I don't either, but I think he'd be more effective as a police captain in that regard than he is a puppet mayor."

"Renard would be better suited back at the precinct then he would be as mayor. You have to admit, when he was running things at the precinct, things went a lot smoother," Wu says.

"How do you plan to get him out of office?" Nick counters. "He's not going to be content as a lowly police precinct captain."

"You'd have to convince him he's got more power and clout as captain than he does as mayor," Adalind says. "And good luck with that. All he's ever wanted is power and respect and authority."

"To be fair, he doesn't really have any of that as mayor," Monroe replies. "The Wesen of Portland don't respect him. Whatever he dreamed of the position being, it hasn't turned into a stepping stone to greatness for him. Not with Black Claw controlling things."

"He's not going to give up the position willingly," Nick says. "Which means you're going to have to force him out, or convince him to bow out to save face."

"Again, good luck with that," Adalind says with a sigh. "I still think maybe there's something we can use with Rachel," she says to Nick.

"Rachel?" Trubel breaks in.

"Sean's campaign manager," Adalind explains.

"Oh, yeah, I vaguely remember her," Hank says. "Whatever happened to her? It seems like he won the election and she was gone shortly thereafter."

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," Adalind replies tersely. "She's dead."

"What? Did he kill her?" Rosalee asks.

Adalind shakes her head.

"No, but he's the only other person besides Bonaparte that knows that she's dead and what happened to her. I never saw anything in the papers about her, so I wonder what they did with the body."

"Did Bonaparte kill her?" Trubel asks.

"No," Adalind says hesitantly. "Diana did."

There's silence as everyone stares at her, but Adalind speaks before they do.

"Sean was involved with his campaign manager."

"Right, I remember Eve—she—they-" Monroe says, shuddering.

"Right," Rosalee agrees.

"Yeah, they were sleeping together," Adalind says. "Diana thought that Rachel was the reason Sean and I weren't together, so she smothered her in her sleep."

Monroe looks at the ceiling above him, trying to see through to the second floor where Diana disappeared with Josh and the children.

"Sh—should we be leaving her alone up there," he asks, trying not to sound too worried, but his eyes dart to his wife's in concern.

"She won't do anything," Adalind says quickly. "I promise. Her powers aren't what they used to be anyway. I don't think she can do that again even if she wanted to." Although, she's not sure, since they haven't tried.

"Oh-kay," Monroe says, but he hardly looks mollified.

"What happened with her powers?" Rosalee asks, looking like she's not sure if she wants to know.

"The stick," Nick says.

"You used it on her?" Monroe squeaks in surprise.

"Not on purpose," Nick retorts defensively, as though they hadn't spent months debating on just that. "She came into contact with it and we think it did something like it did with Eve."

"Oh man," Trubel says in dismay. "Eve's still dealing with the ramifications of that."

Nick looks at Trubel in concern while Adalind feels a wave of apprehension.

"What's going on?"

"She's at about fifty percent," Rosalee says. "Something's not right, but I don't know what it is or why. We've tried everything to get her back to up to speed and the best we can do are some temporary boosts."

"I mean, isn't that a good thing?" Adalind ventures. "She never wanted to become a hexenbiest anyway, maybe she can finally be Juliette again."

"She doesn't want to be Juliette again," Wu says.

"She wants to stay Eve?"

"Yeah," Trubel says. "She's pretty adamant about it."

"She doesn't feel she – or any of us – can live with Juliette again, but I think especially her."

"A lot has happened since then," Nick says, perhaps the understatement of the century. After everything she did to Nick and the others, not to mention tried to do to Adalind, there's really no going back.

"She still has some of her powers, though?"

"Yeah, but nothing like how it was before. There's a definite difference between before the stick and after," Trubel says. Adalind glances at Nick.

"I feel like the same thing is happened with Diana. She's doesn't seem to be as powerful as she was, but she can still do a lot. I wish we knew more about the stick, and its origins. That might tell us more of what it can do and why it was hidden for so long. Maybe I can help you guys find something to help Eve," Adalind murmurs, ignoring the look of surprise Nick sends her. "I need to look through the books anyway. I think it might be useful to have a suppressant for Diana, at least for the time being."

"Do you think a suppressant will work on Diana?" Monroe asks.

"I don't know, but I know Black Claw and Sean want to use her as a weapon in the wesen revolution and I don't want my daughter being a part of that."

"I can help you with the suppressant," Rosalee offers.

"You still have the issue of acquiring a not-recently dead hexenbiest," Nick points out.

"That might not be as big an issue here in Portland as it was in Montana. I already know of a not-recently dead hexenbiest," Adalind replies. "Henrietta," she says at their inquisitive looks. "It's just a matter of finding where she's buried and exhuming the body."

"Right," Nick says, with a touch of sarcasm. "Piece of cake."

"Umm, do you have a legal reason to exhume the body," Wu asks.

"Do we really need one?" Nick quips sarcastically.

"I'm sure we can make one up. Besides, she was murdered, right? You guys are homicide detectives; you can always claim you need to check for DNA evidence," Adalind says.

"If you really need it I'm sure we can figure out something," Wu agrees slowly. "I hope," he adds under his breath.

"Let's not draw attention to ourselves too quickly," Nick cautions Adalind.

"We need to figure out something for Diana before Sean finds out she's back and comes after her," Adalind shoots back. "You know how much she's missed him. I don't want him finding her and convincing her to do something that quote, helps him, when all it does is spread more misery around."

"Uhh, yeah, we don't need someone with powers like that going rogue, so to speak," Monroe agrees. "We're having a hard enough time keeping up with all the wesen that have gone crazy in support of Black Claw."

"Hank and I need to head to the station, but we can see what excuse we can drum up to dig Henrietta up," Wu says.

"And where she's buried," Hank adds.

"Josh and I got some things to do, too," Trubel says. "Like find a new place to live."

"You don't have to move out of the loft right away," Adalind says, but she wonders where she and Nick and the kids will stay—in the loft with three other people, one of whom she has a highly contentious relationship with, or had, and she doesn't think either she or Eve want to be put in the position of having to deal with each other in a personal setting with Nick between them. Come to think of it, she doubts it's Nick's dream fantasy come true, either. Still, if not the loft, then where? With Rosalee and Monroe? It's already crowded with four adults, not to mention five children. Bud? He a wife and three kids of their own. Maybe can find a hotel somewhere, but they don't have much money and she knows the types of places they are for the ones they can afford.

"No, it's cool. Besides it's kinda crowded if we don't."

"We probably need to get to the spice shop and open it up. We don't want to stir up any unwanted attention before we're ready by deviating from our routine," Rosalee says to Monroe, and he nods reluctantly, glancing at Nick and Adalind, and soon Adalind feels everyone's eyes on them.

"What are you going to do?"

"Stay hidden," Nick replies.

"You can join us at the spice shop," Rosalee suggests. "We can start on gathering the ingredients for the suppressant and you can start looking through the books on something that can help Eve," she says to Adalind, and Adalind wonders if the suggestion is as much about searching for a cure or a potion or spell, as it is about keeping she and Nick in their sight.

It's not that she hasn't missed her friends - she's missed them desperately, as has Nick - but she feels almost as though the walls are closing in around them with the degree their friends want to keep them in sight.

Rightfully so, she reminds herself. They've done nothing to assuage their fears by disappearing without so much as a word. There's a degree of trust that once existed that has been broken, abused.

"We need to take care of the car. I don't want to leave it in the alleyway if we don't have to. In case anything points back to us, I'd rather have it hidden or tucked away in the warehouse."

"We can watch the kids at the shop while you take care of things," Rosalee offers, and while it seems like a benign gesture, Adalind can't help but wonder if her children are collateral, to ensure that Nick and Adalind don't make off into the night (or morning, as it were) again.

It's still difficult, too, to leave Diana and Kelly with anyone that is not herself or Nick, but she's trusted Rosalee numerous times with her son, there's no reason not to now other than her own (justifiable) paranoia.

"That would be great," is what she says. She turns to Nick. "You think the Jeep's still there after last night? I'm not optimistic."

"Guess we'll find out."

%%%%

The car is still there in the alleyway where they left it, as is the transient, slumped over – still alive, given the bleary eye that peers out at Nick and Adalind when they approach – one end resting on a jack. It's missing a wheel and Nick swears and sighs in annoyance.

Some of their belongings are missing, too, nothing that identifies them, but things she packed for Kelly – his car seat, the portable stroller, though he has a nicer one at the loft – or he did, she amends, not sure what all still remains for her son and where it's at, and even if it's still usable given how much he's grown since the last time he used any of it. Clothing that's been rifled through, and she's not sure, but she thinks a few pieces are missing, and Adalind issues a sigh of her own and looks at Nick.

"What do you want to do?" she asks him.

"Let's take the rest of the stuff and leave it. I'll get rid of the plates, and see if Hank or Wu can have somebody tow it to a salvage yard."

They make their way back to the loft via the tunnel they used when they returned to Portland, laden down with a couple of backpacks and a duffel bag and manage to get everything back up into the loft after a bit of effort.

She's glad to have a moment alone, without the hurt and accusing faces of her friends staring her down and she dumps the backpack she's carrying next to the bathroom and looks at Nick.

"That went…" she begins, but can't think of a word or series of words to aptly describe what she's feeling. "Can you believe Monroe and Rosalee? Triplets!" she says. "I can't even imagine. Can you imagine having three Kelly's all at the same time?"

Nick shakes his head, but doesn't say anything, busying himself with looking things over in the loft, the camera monitor first, then double checking all the safety measures he had originally installed, though she wonders how well they really worked given she gave up the location and it didn't exactly keep out the dozen or so wesen that stormed the loft to kill him.

"What did you do with stick?" she asks suddenly, recollecting the safety measure that was the most effective of all.

Nick pulls out object out of an inner pocket of his jacket.

"Are you going to keep carrying it around everywhere?" she asks, and he shakes his head. It's risky having something so powerful on him, especially if they get caught and Nick gets arrested. It might be riskier still if he doesn't have it and if they encounter someone who isn't interested in following a due process route. "What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to hide it in the tunnel again. Too risky to keep carrying it around," Nick says, echoing her thought.

"You think it will be safe there?"

"Yeah, I don't think anybody else knows about it but us," he replies, referring to the others. "It should be fine." She nods and takes a closer look around the place she and Nick called home for many months. Happy months, she reflects, remembering trying to navigate their convoluted relationship while juggling the responsibilities of an infant.

"Not much has changed," she remarks, looking things over. Not much has, she notes in surprise, for having had three occupants for the last year or so. There's still baby bottles lined up on a shelf, hers and Nick's clothing are hanging in the closet, but there's also a feeling that their sanctuary has been violated. Not by the wesen who came after Nick, but by the three well-meaning tenants who took up residence in their absence.

It doesn't feel like theirs anymore, and she wonders if she and Nick have just outgrown it – though with Diana now part of their family, and Kelly mobile, it really doesn't fit them anymore – or if she's trying to hang onto a sentimental perception she has about the place she and Nick came to terms with everything between them and fell in love.

"I think the others are upset," she says hoping to engage Nick. "Monroe especially, I mean, I think he's the most obvious about it, but everyone, even if they're not saying anything about it right now…we've got a lot of atoning to do for how we left things. Doesn't it seem like to you that they're paranoid we're just going to take off again if they let us out of their sight. Not that I blame them."

"Yeah. It's going to be worse when they realize I meant what I said. I'm not sorry about what I did if it meant you and Kelly and Diana were safe. I'd do it again."

"Are you thinking about doing it again?"

"Yeah, I don't know about coming back, but we're here. You're right, we can't keep hiding. Running. But I'm terrified that this might be a horrible mistake – something might happen to you, or the kids. Or Monroe and Rosalee – they've got even more to lose now."

"They've got even more to gain by helping us," she counters. "We're not going back. This is where we belong, Nick. They need us. We need them. And Portland and the wesen here need you to help make this place livable again. Kelly and Diana both have a pretty important legacy to understand, and this is the time to start teaching them how important it is to do the right thing, to help others."

Nick nods and looks around the loft.

"Kinda feels like we've outgrown this place, doesn't it?" he says to her, looking up the stairs where they used to sleep, Kelly's crib a few feet away.

"Maybe," she agrees. "It doesn't seem like it's ours anymore, does it?" He looks around again, picking up one of Kelly's baby toys off the dresser, and nods. "All the more reason to start cleaning up Portland. We're going to have to find someplace to fit all us now that's there's four us, with a good school district for the kids, and maybe a large backyard for Diana and Kelly to play in, or near a park," she continues. "Maybe in the Northwest, you think? Or closer to work? Maybe in the pearl, but that can be expensive, and there's not much in the way or large yards or large square footage," she continues, mulling their options before looking up to see if Nick agrees. Nick smiles wryly and rolls his eyes.

"Whatever we pick, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion," he says, planting a kiss on her forehead as he passes by her.

"You're impressed, admit it," she says. "My ability to wrangle a warm and inviting home out of any budget astounds you."

"You astound me, yes," Nick replies, still smiling before turning serious. "But we're not going to be able to seriously consider anything as fugitives from the law."

"Well, fortunately for you, home decorating isn't the only thing I'm good at."

%%%%


End file.
